FINAL FANTASY: UNLIMITED FANFICTION ACADEMY
by Feral Phoenix
Summary: A collection of oneshots by myself and others. 32nd story: Cosplay, for Stormshadow13. Kumo. In a maid costume. With a miniskirt. And lacy pink panties. And garters. Ladies and gentlemen, Kiri's self control has left the building. [Cloudshipping]
1. The Problem

FINAL FANTASY: UNLIMITED FANFICTION ACADEMY

Disclaimer: None of us owns FF:U or anything Final Fantasy-related except maybe copies of stuff, artbooks, plushies, merchandise etc. etc. While we may borrow characters, we will always put them back. Neither do we own our muses; it's more correct to say that they own us...

NOTE: This prologue was written when the FF:U subtopic wasn't up yet, and I'm too lazy to fix it. Contrary to common misconception, I DO have a life, so I can't fix everything.

_One day, in the bountiful land of Fanfiction..._

Sighing exasperatedly, a girl in her mid-teens dumped a stack of paper onto her solid oak desk, pushing glasses with thin tortoiseshell rims up on her nose. "That's the lot of it," she reported, sounding tired. "About five stories in all that mess have to do with Final Fantasy: Unlimited... and most of those five are mine. A lot of the other authors who do anything with FF:U haven't updated or written anything in a while, so this really is it."

"That's really all?" asked a young man sitting in a chair near the corner. He was dressed in a baggy T-shirt and cargos, and had long, crisp white hair, pale skin, and blood-colored eyes. His left hand held the neck of a lute, and his right supported his chin.

"You're my muse, Ghaleon, d'you think I'd really be stupid enough to lie to you?" the girl asked wryly. "Yes, that's it; either we're suffering from a severe case of mass FF:U writer's block or disinterest. It certainly doesn't help that the administration hasn't so much as replied to my request for the show's own subtopic, so the world has to filter through the Final Fantasy section if they want to find anything good for it. AND, there's still one FF:U story that's buried somewhere in the Miscellaneous Anime section." Grumbling a few obscenities, she began to straighten up the stack. "If you could get your little secretary to sort through and categorize all this crap, I'd be very much obliged. That is the only reason we're keeping her around here."

Ghaleon rolled his eyes. "Karst is off on vacation. I think."

The girl frowned. "Vacation?"

"Honeymoon. With Felix."

"Oh."

"We still have to figure out what the heck we're going to do about this problem though. Can't we just start something like a one-shot service where other authors could contribute too? It's been done for other things and worked then..."

The girl shrugged and straightened up the pile a little more. "It could work. I'd have to ask everyone about it, but it could work. Once it starts to attract a little attention, others may pitch in. And then I can always pester Thalia; you know she's been saying that once she finishes her little monster of a fanfic that she's going to start on something FF:U related. She won't be too hard to guilt."

"That's good. I was hoping you'd say so."

The girl looked up, pushed her glasses up on her nose again, and glared in the direction of the general public. "Okay, people, if you're going to be reading or submitting to this Fanfiction Academy, you'll have to abide by a few rules. Hope that's alright with all of you, but we really do need a little FF:U related support on this website. If you have anything to contribute, please email it to me...that's Feral Phoenix, the author (obviously)...and bear with me if there's a little trouble receiving anything; my Hotmail account tends to delete stuff that's more than five days old if I don't have whoever sent it on my mailing list. If I don't seem to have gotten anything, email it to me again or mention it in a review. I'll go see what the problem is that way. If fanfics abide by the rules and I've got them in time, I'll post them under this story, giving you credit as the author (if I don't, you can report me to the admins which would not be good). Help us out here. Good luck and thank you."

FERAL'S FANFICTION ACADEMY RULES

Please don't submit anything R-rated for now; I'd have to up the entire story collection, and that would mean a lot of the G and PG-rated stuff wouldn't get read by the appropriate age group.

Try to include some story information at the beginning of any one-shot you submit; such as warnings, if the story is PG-13 or contains a little unusual stuff that a reader might not like.

Original characters and their stories are absolutely accepted, so long as they actually tie in to FF:U.

FF:U After Spiral (Huta no Kizuna) fanfiction will also be accepted.

Please don't submit a story that's just blatant character bashing. Everybody's got a favorite character, but it might not be yours, so don't wail on somebody you don't likethat character might have fans you're pissing off.

Please no Oscha-centric fanfiction. Speaking out of general consensus, a lot of people really hate him, including me. I know he's probably got fans too, but for now just PLEASE no Oscha-centric fics!

I'm pretty lenient on character pairings; I'm pretty much a person who says anything goes so long as the characters would actually work together. There are only a few pairings that wouldn't be allowed here, and those will be listed later, along with some of the stuff that will be accepted.

I don't think I need to put this in, but no uber-graphic sex scenes, kay? You can be a _little _graphic, just don't get too detailed. We're trying to keep things PG-13 here.

YAOI AND YURI (Shonen-ai and shojo-ai) WILL BOTH BE ACCEPTED.

If there's anything that I forgot, I'll put it up in a later update-from-the-author-and-her-muses.

Kansha suru!

SUPPORTED PAIRINGS:

Kaze/Lisa: Obviously. According to the producers, they're meant to be together, and they're just a really cute couple. There's the awkwardness factor and the cuteness and the... okay, I'll shut up. They're cute together already!

Kaze/Kumo: This is another obvious pairing that's pretty popular on FF-Net. Lots of tragedies center around them, usually playing it that Kumo is secretly in love with Kaze or something like that. The idea of star-crossed lovers has been popular since Romeo and Juliet, and guess what? It still works perfectly. These two can be a really sweet couple, depending on who's writing and what they're writing for.

Cid/Miles: Obvious yet VERY underappreciated couple! They need more attention, they're simply so adorable together! Why? Episode 17. Nuff said.

Clear/Ai: Awww, it's puppy love. Everybody likes puppy love! Needless to say, this would have to be a pretty G-rated pairing. They're both too young to be doing anything weird.

Clear/Lou: This one is just a really interesting possibility that occured to me while watching. And they'd actually be cute together too... like the above pairing, this one should stay G-rated.

Kumo/Crux: Only an idiot couldn't notice that she's madly in love with him, as he's the only one who doesn't treat her like dirt. Physiology demands that this stay a G-rated pairing. This is most easily played as a one-sided crush, but you're welcome to portray it however you want.

Kiri/Kumo: Definitely one of the weirder pairings, but if you think about it long enough, it makes sense... _and _it's very sweet. If you're looking for a tragic relationship, this one's even better to use than Kaze and Kumo. If you're playing for Kaze and Lisa as a couple, this one is good on the side to keep the Kumo fangirls from being angry that he's staying a miserable bachelor. There are vague implications during Episode 18 that there was something going on between them (VERY vague... try watching the episode over and over in order to analyze those two and you'll see it); if you want to read it to see how they fit, you'd have to find an author who writes them a lot and is comfortable with it. I personally write these two very often; KxK is the exception to my "incest is weird" rule.

DEFINITELY NOT ALLOWED:

Kaze/Aura: I see this everywhere and it just annoys me! The show was REALLY ambiguous about their relationship for a long time, but in the dubbed it _clearly _stated that Kaze and Aura are brother and sister. This might be okay... but Kaze and Aura just plain do not work. Errgh. Ew ew ew. Not allowed, ever. That's final.

Yu/Ai: Just plain _no._

Oscha/any character: Once again, no Oscha. Oscha is evil and bad and needs to be whacked upside the head. And he just would not work with ANYBODY.

Herba/any character, specifically Kumo/Herba: What do people see with these two? Herba flirts with everyone, not just Kumo, and as demonstrated in Episode 25, she _really _does not care about him at all. This is another just plain no.

Pist/any character: Once again, no. The Deathlords are all very selfish characters, and they actually care very little for each other. Pist, for example, thinks the sun shines out of his own rear end (it's TRUE, he does), and never looks farther than himself.

Fungus/any character: See reasons for not pairing Deathlords with anyone in previous pairing.

Chaos (Earl/Count)/any character: Chaos isn't really capable of emotions of love. Lust maybe, but not love. I've seen a few exceptionally good fanfictions that worked on the premise of Chaos keeping Kumo around as a sex toy, but that's about the extent of Chaos' feelings for someone else in that direction. And although I hate having to see Kumo-chan suffering, Chaos just really fits the role of twisted amoral rapist. Just no Chaos romance fics. Evil evil evil.

Knave/any character: Please God no. Knave, while a comic character, never gets anywhere when he hits on others for a _reason. _No way. Not ever.

_Any pairings that aren't on either list should be okay. If I have some objection to the pairing, I'll email you back and tell you, as well as apologize that I didn't put that up beforehand._

_I'm counting on your support!_


	2. The Claddagh Ring

The Claddagh Ring

DISCLAIMER: ...don't own FF:U...

From the beginning, they had known it wouldn't be easy.

When as children they had been far more affectionate than any other pair of siblings, they had been shielded from others' curiosity only by their parents' careful protection. And even their mother Madori watched them from a distance with worried emerald eyes.

As they had grown older, they followed their parents' instinct and almost religiously hid what they had from others, even those who might understand. By then, the seemingly platonic embraces and awkward kisses had evolved into tender, almost amorous counterparts. When they held each other, the blood that they shared sang, and they sought each other's lips as if kisses were the elixer of life.

Once, a timely interruption was all that preserved their sexual innocence. Knowing the rote, they hid what had happened from the public view, but privately decided that they had to do something about their relationship before it spiralled out of hand.

Coming to an agreement that they would let whatever happened happen, they waited.

And the war stole from them the time that was theirs.

Years and years later, after their due resurrections, they resumed their relationship where it had left off, knowing now how precious they truly were to each other. Their experience had deepened their feelings, not stifled them. They were lucky.

When they first made love, when they let themselves awaken to each other, they realized that what they had would be lasting.

And yet, they had come to live in a world that believed what they had was wrong.

All of this was running through Kiri Madoushi's mind as he waited in line at the small jewelry shop that was relatively close to the Sadogashima apartment he shared with his brother. As he was out in public, he had abandoned his native clothing for more Japanese-looking jeans (low-rise by exactly one inch) and a black shirt with a zipper down the front. He drew enough attention on the street anyway because of his brilliantly crimson eyes and hair and the three sharp spikes protruding from his forehead; in his own clothes he stuck out worse than a sore thumb.

A year and a half ago, they had both been brought back from the dead... Kiri's little brother Kumo to battle the evil of Chaos; Kiri himself to kill his brother. Luckily for both of them, that little conflict had been resolved; they were able to live in the home world of their friends, at peace.

Since then, the two of them had stayed with the Hayakawas until they had managed to solidly buy the little studio apartment that was more than big enough for both of them to live in. They shared a bed and had little need for excess furnishings; their living quarters were simple and spare and (thanks to Kumo) quite clean. Although they weren't exactly rich since neither of them was apt at comprehending the Japanese concepts of things like _money _and _jobs _that you got paid for, they got by.

That was why Kiri could only spare so much on something for Kumo at the moment, though he guiltily wished that he had just a little bit more. Most of what the store offered was extremely expensive. Kumo didn't care for precious stones, but even the finest plain jewelry had large price tags attached, and the cheap stuff _was _cheappoorly made, poorly processed and probably easily breakable or tarnished. And yet there had to be something...

It was his turn. With a sigh, Kiri stepped to the counter and surveyed the motley collection of pendants, bracelets, and rings. Everything he thought his brother might like was _way _out of his price range; his thoughts turned rueful as he wondered what he was going to do without something so symbolic until a glint of silver caught his eye.

"Excuse me... what's this?"

The clerk smiled as he pointed. "It's a special kind of ring. Irish, I think. They're supposed to represent love and trusting relationships."

"Why so inexpensive? It hardly looks like some of the other cheap stuff in here..."

The clerk smiled again. "They haven't been all that popular lately. Most couples are into the diamond ring thing rather than old Celtic jewelry. We just need to sell them... they're dead weight here and we aren't accepting any more shipments."

"I'll take one," Kiri said decisively, placing money on the counter. "Someone I know is going to love it. It's just what I was looking for."

* * *

Kumo was curled up on the sofa, half-asleep, when Kiri got back. Closing the door quietly behind him, he shook his head and smiled. Kumo's sweet and delicate appearance while sleeping never failed to appeal to his own softer side.

Slipping the little silver trinket into his pocket, Kiri walked across the room and gently shook his brother's shoulder. "Ne... ototo-chan, wake up."

Kumo shifted and blearily opened jadeine eyes, shoving a fluff of white hair out of them. "Whassit, Niisama?"

"I've got something important for you here," Kiri said softly. "But you need to wake up first, okay? Like I said, it's going to have some significance..."

"Unn..." Bobbing his head, Kumo sat up, alternately stretching and rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "What is it?"

With a mischievous smile, Kiri tapped the tip of his brother's nose admonishingly. "Sore wa himitsu desu!" (That's a secret!)

Unable to resist smiling back, Kumo shook his head. "You are the worst."

"Yes, I am. But then again, I _did _take the time to buy you a present while I was out." Digging in his pocket, Kiri pulled out a little silver ring, wrought in the shape of two hands holding a heart between them.

Kumo stared at it, full of innocent wide-eyed wonder. "For me...? Pretty..."

Kiri held it up between two fingers. "It's called a claddagh ring," he told his little brother seriously. "And to me, it represents what I'm going to say to you right now."

Kumo looked up at Kiri uncertainly, wondering at this change in his spirited, mischievous brother's demeanor.

"I love you. With all my heart, all my soul. I love you in my every waking moment and my dreams. I need you and I want you and above all else I both want and need you to be happy. It would be my greatest joy just to spend the rest of my life with you... to join my life to yours. But the world we've come into... won't allow us to do that, Kumo-chan. Not just yet."

Folding the ring back into his right hand, Kiri reached out with his left to guide Kumo's right hand up. "But I promise you... that things are going to turn out well this time. Someday, the time will come when we may show the world what we feel. You are my brother, my love, my life. And this... is how you can be certain of that." Slowly and carefully, Kiri slipped the silver claddagh ring onto Kumo's finger. "I won't waste my second chance. I'll make sure of all of it. I promise, Kumo-chan."

"Kiri..." Kumo couldn't help staring, wide-eyed, pink starting to creep across his face. After a pause, he smiled and threw his arms around his brother. "Thank you!"

Kiri smiled crookedly and returned Kumo's enthusiastic embrace. "Well, I'm glad you like it, at least." The awkward words were meant to cover the vast relief that had come with Kumo's reaction to his wordshe'd been rather worried that for some reason his brother wouldn't accept the implications of the gift. They'd had enough hints from others that what they had was wrong that he'd begun to worry that he or Kumo would start believing those hateful words instead of what they knew was true...

"Of course I like it, you idiot!" Kumo replied with a laugh, giving his brother a playful kiss on the cheek. "You got it for me. I'd like anything you got me, because your getting me something means you'd thought of me and wanted to do something special for me! That and the fact that I love you."

"I'm glad," was all Kiri said, spinning his brother around gently and kissing him equally gently on the lips when they came to a halt. As he was about to step back, Kumo tightened his hold, giving the redhead a soulful look as he nuzzled closer. And they kissed again, more deeply this time, more involved.

When Kiri pulled back to gasp for breath, Kumo stared up at him with a strange expression, beginning to toy with the hem of his brother's shirt. "Watashi wa... Kiri-niisama... daisuki desu yo..." he said huskily between soft rushing kitten breaths.

"Unn," Kiri replied absently, pressing throbbing lips to Kumo's collarbones.

* * *

A warm and gentle breeze drifted through the open window, teasing the wind chime hanging from the ceiling just inside it. As the wind's caress floated through the room, it stirred the spare contents of the little studio apartment.

Although the room had been clean not very long ago, two sets of clothes were strewn haphazardly across the floor, from the sofa over to the bed. The soft comforter and sheets were curled in a snarl around the two forms that lay exhausted there, almost in the form of a nest, and the pillows were distributed randomly over the mattress' surface (one had even fallen off).

Kiri was curled in a slight curve, fast asleep, his long red hair spread in tufts around his bodyand his hands tucked close to his face. His long lean form was half-covered by an errant sheet, and his face was peaceful and blank, with his eyes closed tightly and his lips slightly parted. His side rose and fell evenly with his breathing, shifting his ribcage and causing the slightest amount of tension in the muscles across his abdomen.

Kumo was closer to the wall, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling, getting ready to join his brother in dreams. His soft skin still shone with sweat, and as Kiri was beneath the only available sheet of the bed, he was completely exposed to the world, naked and strangely vulnerable. His expression was placid and content, his eyes half-closed jadeine pools, his right earlobe still pink where Kiri had nipped it. Even as he let out a soft and happy sigh, he raised his right hand before his face and considered for a moment the silver claddagh ring still fitted around his finger.

"A promise ring..." he murmured briefly, then smiled and shifted position, closing his eyes.

Within moments, he was sound asleep.

_-Feral's Japanese for Bakas-_

Ne: Common Japanese expression which usually calls for agreement or is used like the American word "Hey" (calling attention).

Ototo: Little brother.

chan: Suffix. Boys usually tack "-chan" at the end of the name of the person they like; girls also use it among classmates and close friends. It can also be used to address a pet or a very young child. An affectionate, friendly honorific.

Niisama: Shortening of "oniisama"; can be used as a suffix. A respectful term for one's big brother ("nii" big brother, "-sama" second-level respect suffix). Kumo's nickname for Kiri.

Unn: More slangy/dialectual version of "yes"; more informal than saying "hai".

Sore wa himitsu desu: Literally, "That's a secret".

Watashi wa Kiri-niisama daisuki desu yo: The basic translation of this would be something like "I love you" or "I'm in love with you". In Japanese, nouns are always listed before verbs, which is why the first-person noun ("Watashi" I) and the subject of the sentence ("Kiri-niisama" my big brother Kiri) are grouped together. In short, Kumo is telling Kiri how much he loves him. As a side note, here's the use of "Niisama" as a suffix.

Daisuki: This word needs a bit of explanation. In Japanese, it's pretty much the second most serious confession of love there is and is an expression of affection similar to "I really, really like you" or "I have a big crush on you" (as an actual confession). Naturally, this carries q-u-i-t-e a bit of significance here! In fact, "daisuki" is usually translated as "I love you", like in Kumo's quote from above which utilizes the word. It helps to characterize the gravity of Kumo-chan and Kiri-kun's relationship!

...And yes, my knowing this much Japanese scares me, too.

_fin_


	3. Awakening

Awakening

DISCLAIMER: Don't own, so don't sue me. Fabula is cool and Kumo is kawaii.

With a sigh, Fabula removed her hands from the ball of blue crystal.

It had been almost twelve years since the day of terrible reckoning when Chaos had been defeated at such a steep price. In about a month or so, events would be set into motion that would rock the layers of worlds that were stacked so closely upon each other, and possibly destroy their common hub, the mixture of dreams and nightmares known by most as Wonderland. And she, as the guide of souls, had been watching and preparing for this time since that day.

Once again, she would be forced to watch both foreseen and untold horrors unravel before her, unable to do anything to help.

For all this time, when she had not been meditating, seeking into the future for the threads of hope scattered throughout the heavy tapestry of despair, she had also been given the task of guardian, which she actually found enjoyable. Over the long years, she had held him within the depths of sleep while his body and soul recovered from the trauma of his long battle against the forces of Chaos. When she wasn't busy with her duty as a guide, she had taken to watching him as he slept. Seeing him personally, up close instead of from afar as she had throughout his life and training, she couldn't help but be amazed by everything he had done. While he was sleeping, he looked so fragile and delicate, as though he should be protected instead of shoved into the role of defender once again. There was a sensitivity to him, a purity of heart, an innocence, that had kept him a child in many ways. It was the child she was going to see now, before she had to do as destiny commanded her.

Sweeping through the door into his chamber, she paused with one hand on the frame. He seemed to have shifted his position slightly since she had last come; he was curled more than before, twisted slightly beneath the sheets of his bed but still perfectly comfortable as far as she could tell. His left arm and hand rested upon the covers while his right hand was curled next to his face, which was settled into a serene expression. His eyes were closed tightly with their long dark lashes brushing his cheeks, and his lips were slightly parted. Although he had slept soundly for all of the eleven years and eleven months while Fabula watched over him, his soft white hair was no messier than it had been at the beginning. It was fluffed out in a pale halo about his head, contrasting sharply with the seven heavy gray spikes on his forehead. His skin had shed much of its pallor over the yearshe no longer looked so much like a corpse but like a living creature once again.

Walking slowly, Fabula made her way to his side, sitting on the edge of the bed so that she was right next to him. Gently, she reached out and touched his eyelids with the tips of her fingers. "It's time to wake up," she said softly. "Kumo, wake up."

Stirring, he gave a muted moan, then slowly opened his eyes. They were a beautiful shade of jadeine, a light jade green that only made him seem all the more sweet and innocent. It took him a few moments to focus his vision, and when he did, it took him a moment longer to look straight into Fabula's face and see the kindness there.

"Where am I?" he asked softly, his voice still steeped in the vagueness of his dreams.

"In safety," she answered, giving his hair a reassuring stroke. "Welcome to the twilight. I am known as Fabula, and I have been watching over you."

Struggling to sit up, he put one hand to his forehead. "I thought I was dead," he said numbly, closing his eyes once again.

Fabula realized that no matter how long she had let him sleep, awakening would always be too soon for him. Nevertheless, it had to be done. He simply did not have any more time. "You were." He stared at her, wide-eyed. "Even so, you are still needed in this world. Outside of this place, nearly twelve years have passed while you slept. Life has gone on. Chaos is beginning to build a base of power and ambition again."

With a pleading expression, he shook his head. "But how can that be? We gave our lives in order to seal Chaos forever!"

Fabula looked down sadly. "I know, better than anyone, the sacrifices that were called for. But it is not yet over. That may be the only reason you were allowed to live."

"So that is to be my eternal role," he whispered sadly. There was little bitterness in his voice and no anger. "Was this decided at the moment I was born... that I would have to live with this evil fate?"

"Before even that," she told him softly. "This would be hard for anyone, and your life was not kind to you. But this is something that you must do, something that only you _can _do. I am only a guide, and so after I have sent you on your way I cannot help you. But you will not be alone in this."

That made him look back up at her. "Then Kaze...?"

She nodded. "He, too, has been resurrected. However, he still waits to be awakened, and when he does, his memory will be fragmented at best. It is doubtful that he will remember how you fought side by side. He may even blame you for what has happened. Regardless, you are the one he will seek. When you meet, certain events shall be set into motion, and the two of you, along with others, will be set against Chaos once again. After that, it is up to you what happensthe future remains unclear. It will be a hard road, and painful, filled with sacrifice. But it is your path, and you must not stray from it."

He bowed his head, his eyes closed tightly with grief, absorbing the weight she had laid upon his shoulders. Yet after a brief pause, he looked back up at her, and his face was resolute. This was his burden, and he was equal to it.

"What must I do?" he asked softly.

"I shall tell you, and then you shall be set off, but first, you will have some time to prepare. Your clothes have been cleaned and repaired, and are laid out beside your bed." A touch of pink flew to his cheeksapparently, he had not realized until that moment, even when he sat up, that he was completely naked. "This is also time for you to think. When you are ready, join me outside." Fabula stood and headed for the door. She had seen him without clothing many times before, of course, but this was different. Besides, he probably needed some time to himself by now.

* * *

When he joined her in her foreseeing chamber, he seemed to have resolved himself. He was dressed as she had seen him beforein the raiment of his people; thin but durable fabric in shirt, pants, and cloak, his a perfect white. A thin circle of ribbon was drawn tightly around his throat, with the longer thread fixed to the back trailing down to his ankles.

"I'm ready," was all that he said.

Fabula was ready too. "Your sword and weaponry." She held in her arms his belt with the myriad glass containers hung along its length and the white baton-sword he carried.

"Thank you." He took them from her and equipped both items, his expression not changing in the slightest.

"Not far from here is the station of an interdimensional train," she explained. He listened with sharp, rapt attention to her words. "Ride it until the end of its line. No matter what you do, do not get off until it makes its final stop. You will know when you get there. Chaos and his lords await you. Although it will not be enjoyable for you, you must stay with them while you wait for Kaze and his allies. Do not give them your real name. Instead, give them a title that Kaze will recognize. After that, it's up to you, as well as to Fate. Good luck." She accompanied the mantra of hope with a gentle touch at his shoulder.

He nodded, turned away, and walked from her seer's palace, pausing at the exit to bow deeply to her. "My thanks," he said softly, and was gone.

Fabula watched him until he was out of sight. "Never give up hope, my courageous White Cloud. Never give up hope." And she headed back to her blue crystal once again, awaiting the invocations of destiny yet to come.


	4. Blood

Blood

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Final Fantasy: Unlimited. Quite obviously. Because I would never have put so much tragedy in CERTAIN PEOPLE's lives. For the record, if I did own it, I would never do this either.

_"O great wandering spirit of Wonderland... awaken from your slumber and answer my voice..."_

_It hurt... so much... it was so painful, so exhausting just to answer the demand... "W-who's there...? Who has disturbed my rest...?"_

_There was a bright flash of light, and he was able to slowly, slowly uncurl from his fetal position. His hand still tightly gripped the folds of his cloak, he knew, and opening his brilliant carmine eyes, he swept it from around him, gripping the hilt of his sword and holding it before him. "Have I been... resurrected...?"_

_"Yes... Madoushi-dono." For the first time, he noticed the necromancer before him, a strange creature swathed all in patterned robes and masked by a simple white plate._

_Suspicious simply because of the man's appearance, he gripped the Maken's hilt, holding the sword at the ready. "Why?"_

_"I have a little... task for you," the necromancer replied. "I am one of the Four Lords of Gaudium... my name is Oscha. And you are long years' overdue your reunion with a certain young man..."_

_His eyes widening, he stepped forward. "What? Kumo... he's alive! He survived what happened to us! Take me to him right now, I demand it!"_

_"Not quite so fast, my lord," the stranger named Oscha said, holding up one long, dextrous hand. Crying out in sudden pain, he found that he could not move his body at all; he was pinioned against a seal set up behind him long before his captor had awakened him._

_Hazarding a guess at the purpose of his revival, he spat a curse, gasping for breath. "Damn... you...!"_

_A surge of pain coursed through his blood, ripping another agonized cry from his half-paralyzed lungs. "Now, now, my dear Madoushi-dono... don't be so hasty in judgement. After all... I'm giving you your long-awaited chance at revenge... revenge for all the ridicule he's put you through... revenge for your empty life... isn't the thought... soothing in some way...?"_

_"I hate you," he hissed._

_"My oh my, what a proud spirit we have here," Oscha said in simpering, mocking tones. "My beautiful one, we have a way of bending such spirits to our will... as the stubborn ones are the hardest to break..."_

_The Chaos chamber was empty except for the two of them. Oscha had planned it so, just in case. It was uncertain if even his master would approve of this method._

_And so, no one was there to hear the desperate screams of fear and pain that echoed from the depths of the monster's heart, although they were echoed in one soul's tormented dreams._

---

_"Don't let go!"_

_They clung to each other's hands as the winds of the storm buffeted their bodies about the area, trying to tear them apart. So closely fit together were they that an onlooker who caught a glimpse of them might have mistaken them for the ancient symbol of yin and yang. The whole time, two desperate, frantic pairs of eyes--two carmine, two jadeine--remained locked onto each other, speaking what words could not be said, what words they did not know they had to say, just in case this really did prove fatal to one or both._

_"Don't let go of me, you hear? Hold on with your **life!" **_

_Nevertheless, sweat had made their palms slick, and their intertwined fingers could only take so much abuse._

_"No! Don't do this! Kumo, don't do this! Don't!"_

_"I... I... I can't stop it... I can't... no, please no! No! No! No!"_

_"DON'T LET GO! FOR GOD'S SAKE, KUMO, DON'T LET GO OF ME!"_

_"I... I'm s-sorry, I... I c-can't!"_

_One last terrified, loving look passed between them before the wind did its job, brutally ripping the two of them apart, throwing the figure in white through the clouds even as it tossed the red-clad one high into the sky, a bright patch of color against the gray of the swirling nightmare in the air._

_And all dissolved into nothingness._

---

With a gasp, Kumo lurched upright, beads of sweat flying from his face, shaking uncontrollably.

"Kukuriu?"

Still trembling, he turned. The small sprite-doll Crux was standing on her toes beside him, considering him with huge golden eyes that were filled with concern.

Weakly, he shook his head, trying to smile. "It... it was just a dream. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

"Kuu..." From the look on her face, she quite sensibly didn't believe him in the slightest.

With another shake of his head, Kumo ruffled her hair. He couldn't help but have a soft spot for the little creature, for all that Oscha had created her out of part of himself. She was always so helpful, not to mention devoted; she didn't deserve the treatment that she got from the Earl and his lords. You couldn't control the circumstances under which you came into the world, but you could control what you did with yourself afterwards. Though Crux, like anyone, had her duties, she preferred to spend her time at Kumo's side instead of with the callous lords of Gaudium who abused her.

"I stand corrected," he whispered to her, sad humor in his voice if not in his face. "But you're the only one who knows, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't tell."

"Kuuu..." Crux was just happy to be touched, but Kumo took it as a yes.

"Thank you," he replied, standing up. "I'll be outside in the usual place, just in case you need me. I doubt I can take very much of the Brat and his court today... I'd end up screaming, bashing a few heads, and completely blowing my cover." So saying, he started padding off towards the exterior of the airborne castle, headed for the little precipice where he spent most of his time when he wasn't babysitting the Earl back inside or bailing Kaze and his company out of some impossible fix. Though it was a precarious position so high up, it was really the only place that Kumo could feel even remotely at home in, trapped in this cold lonely place of alien metals and cruelty nurtured in the absence of a heart. Here, perched among the clouds, he could remove himself from the present and bury himself in the past.

---

_He'd never slept alone in his life before he was thrown from his world by chance into one he didn't know so well--the realm beneath his, theMystaria of earth instead of sky. Leaning against Kaze or Aura's shoulder was never quite enough. He ached to be held, to be cuddled, to curl up in someone's protective, supporting arms, to reward his benefactor with gentle kisses and caresses. As a young toddler, before he'd been taken from his parents to train, he had slept in their bed between them; after that, there was always... well. Always a certain special pair of arms there to encircle him as he drifted into dreams. Always a certain pair of slightly callused hands to brush away his tears after his nightmares. Always a certain form that curled around his under the heavy covers of their bed, all through the years to their young adulthood._

_Neither of them, nor any of their people, found it strange. Family closeness was an aspect of life. Brothers slept with brothers until they found their prospective mates; sisters with each other or with friends. If a child had no other family, he or she would share the bed of an adoptive sibling until a more intimate bed accepted them._

_But even through the early years, they knew they'd had something special. Kisses aimed for cheeks always found a way to wander towards lips. Clamoring for physical contact led them to end up tangled in each other's arms even when it wasn't night, just sitting and holding and stroking. When they couldn't be with each other they pined._

_In the first few days, Kumo had cried a lot at night, even though he had Kaze's warm solid body beside his. Kaze, though dependable, didn't know the first thing about how to gentle someone, how to soothe away their pain. Aura was shy around him and would only offer a rare pat or friendly touch on the shoulder. Even if he curled between them at night, Kumo always remembered what he was missing, and so he wept. Neither Kaze nor Aura understood, although Aura tried and had certainly made efforts that did not go unappreciated. It was just that... Kumo missed him. And had gone on missing him, especially knowing that he had certainly been killed along with everyone else on Windaria._

_It wasn't just the comfort of his presence, either. It was the way his pride made him awkward at times, and his spiky, defensive sense of humor, and his deeply ingrained honor, and his skill and ingenuity in practice combat. It was also the way that tendrils of his hair, just faintly coarser than Kumo's, would curl around him with the slightest gust of wind. And also the outrageous pranks he still could not help but pull at times. And his smug little smile when he'd been proved triumphant after a long battle. And every other little thing about him._

_Kaze never understood the constant aching until what happened to Aura, and by then it was too late for much of anything, though Kumo hated to realize he'd been glad not to be alone in his pain. After that they'd only had each other, which in a way made it better and in a way made it worse._

_Kumo still could not help but miss the warm sweet nights during which he'd had a constant companion beneath his covers, no matter what anyone said or did. It just wasn't the same without him, and would never be._

---

A faint trace of familiarity tugged at the corner of Kumo's awareness, pulling him from the half-dream he'd been in the middle of. Even though he knew better, knew it was impossible, he couldn't stop himself from catching his breath and letting his eyes widen in hope and disbelief.

It was a song, a scent, a color, a rune, a flavor in the air, a brilliant brilliant name, the coppery feeling that was both blood and pride. It was a knowledge that set Kumo's heart racing in his chest.

_Kiri._

An impossibility, he knew, but one too clear to be a fluke. He was here. After twelve long years he was here. Incredible.

_Kiri! Kiri Kiri Kiri Kiri Kiri Kiri Kiri...!_

Where...?

But of course. Or why would he have felt it at all?

One of the lords of Gaudium, a shark-man named Pist that Kumo found particularly irritating, had contructed an object that he called the "Ocean Puzzle", which was made up of tiny fragments of all the worlds that collectively made up this nexus of Wonderland, to trap Kaze and his allies. Whenever it shifted, one of the fragments became the focus of intense scrutiny, sometimes battle. The fragment in which Kaze and his company were now trapped must be some part of Windaria--lost worlds often became incorporated into Wonderland, after all--and somehow, Kiri must also be there. Somehow.

Sweeping his cloak about himself, Kumo slipped through the fine lines of dimensional barriers that defined Wonderland, seeking the familiarity he had felt and knowing that he would end up in the right place.

There.

And he was falling through a sky towards a cloudfield wrapped in crimson Mist...

---

Something was wrong. Kumo could sense that the moment he started to fall.

The energy signature, the very life in that Mist was Kiri's. What had happened here? If Kiri had been attacked...

No, Kumo realized as he delicately touched down, turning to look through the heavy screen of Mist that encircled them all.

Kaze and the army helping him were also here, along with the woman and children from another world. All of them, save Kaze, had been paralyzed by the toxins Kiri utilized within his Mist, and Kaze was trapped in one of Kiri's infamous energy prisons. Kiri himself was standing right before him, a hard and decisive look on his face, with the tip of his Maken pointed at Kaze's throat.

Watching as the woman from the new outer world collapsed, Kumo shook his head, turning to Kiri with the only word he could bring himself to speak. "Why...?"

Kiri, turning, lowered his sword to his side with a strange look on his face. "I've been waiting for you," he said almost conversationally as a slight breeze tossed his crimson hair and cloak around his tall thin form.

"Why did you...?" Kumo asked helplessly.

"I was resurrected and brought here for one purpose." Kiri's carmine eyes narrowed. "To finish our fight." Kumo, shaken, watched as Kiri leveled his red Maken at him. "Prepare for battle, little brother..."

"Niisama..." Kumo whispered, rendered unable to move.

There was a long silence, and then Kiri spoke.

"Do you remember that great battle that sealed the fate of our world, _little brother?"_

Kumo hadn't been there himself, but he certainly did remember. Mystaria's two races, the people of the sky and the people of the earth, had banded together in one last attempt to fend off Chaos and end the siege that had plagued them for so long. Over a period of hours, every last one of the defenders had been wiped out, and the world had been destroyed. Kumo, having been traveling with Kaze and Aura to seek out Chaos' mortal body, had not been there to help, but he had known--especially by the way it felt as though his heart had been wrenched out of his chest--that his brother had fallen.

"At that time, why did I advance towards the enemy, fighting them without holding back? Do you know?"

"Because..." Kumo ventured helplessly. "You were a swordsman of great pride..."

"Wrong!" Kiri snapped, rending the air with an angry slash of his Maken.

"What?" Kumo gasped, his jadeine eyes going wide.

"I was thinking of you the whole time!"

"Me?" Guilt's threads tightened around Kumo's heart, and he hated himself once again for being absent from Mystaria at the siege.

"If it had been you, what would you have been thinking?" Kiri demanded. "What would you have done? Thoughts like those have always brought me to the question of who was the stronger between the two of us. I wanted to lead us to victory in that great battle to show my superior skills!"

"Niisama..." Where was all this coming from? This wasn't like Kiri at all, not one bit! Or... had he been hiding this jealousy all along? If so, what had freed it? _What happened to you, big brother?_

_"I_ was the greatest swordsman, and you _know _it," Kiri continued, bitter hatred laced through his words and glaring from his blood-colored eyes. _"I _was the one left to make the difficult choices. And so... I died.

"But even in death, this was the thought that I could not escape."

"So that is how badly you want to fight me..." Kumo was torn. This was so unlike Kiri that he could almost think it _wasn't _his brother, except for the fact that the feeling he got was the same. This was the brother he loved, his Kiri, his dear one, who had always been there through all the good and bad times, almost right to the end.

"Our world has been devoured and decimated by the insatiable hunger of Chaos," Kiri stated simply. "Now I am free of all care."

Murmurs ran through the members of the army that was fighting Chaos; whispers of disbelief.

_No, Kiri, no, _Kumo thought desperately. _Stop this, please, I love you, you're my brother, don't say these things._

"Enough!" Kiri shouted, leveling his Maken at his brother once again. "Now fight me!"

"Niisama!" Kumo cried desperately.

"Now I am nothing more than a dead soul trapped within this crystal weapon, and you must answer to my spirit and my sword!"

"But..." The protest died on Kumo's lips, caught in his throat. This could not be happening... a dream of paradise turned into such a nightmare. And here! Here, in this place where they had lived as children... it seemed almost premeditated.

Perhaps it was.

"If you will not come to face me, then I will come to you!" With a sharp cry, Kiri dashed forward, slashing at Kumo, who just barely dodged the blow. Facing this specter of his brother, with a sword drawn and ready to kill, was too much.

He could never do it.

"Niisama, don't you see!" Kumo cried desperately. "There is someone taking advantage of your heart, trying to confuse you with these deceptions!"

"What of it?" Kiri asked coldly, his eyes glowing.

"Niisama...!" All right, there was _definitely _something wrong. Kiri would... not... do this. And he had all but admitted someone was controlling him!

"Fight me!" Kiri demanded once again, slashing at Kumo, who stepped out of the way just in time.

As he regained his footing, Kumo shook his head, his face settling into pained resolution.

"No. I will never fight you."

Kiri swung his sword at Kumo once more. This time, although Kumo avoided the main sweep of the blow, a thin cut opened on his upper arm.

"You're my brother. I love you."

With a cry of rage and frustration, Kiri lunged. This time, Kumo held his ground, his arms outstretched and his eyes warm, slipping his mask automatically from his face. Although he let out a soft cry of distress as the sword bit into his side, he did not falter.

"What's wrong with you, Niisama? This isn't like you."

Another slash and another hit. This time the cut ran across Kumo's ribs, letting a thin ribbon of blood run down his side.

Staring down the blade pointed at him, Kumo shook his head. "The Kiri I know would never do this, no matter how angry or jealous he was!"

"Shut up and take out that sword," Kiri hissed, madness in his eyes, as he attacked again.

Wincing at the pain of the wound that had been opened along his left hip, Kumo held out his hands to Kiri's furiously shaking form. "Please, try to calm your spirit, my brother!"

"Why don't you try using your sword to do that?" Kiri demanded.

"Because _I love you," _Kumo repeated. "I could never try to hurt you. I love you."

"Shut up," Kiri snapped, carving a line across Kumo's collarbone.

"Try to fight it," the white-haired swordsman pleaded. "Don't let them do this to you!"

Wordlessly, Kiri put all his strength into one last blow, which knocked Kumo onto his back, opening a bloody crescent on his chest, over his heart.

"Nii..sama..." Kumo whispered weakly, coughing and letting a line of blood trace from the corner of his mouth.

Kiri shuddered, shaking his head and letting his Maken fall from nerveless hands, pressing them both to his temples and letting out a low moan. "Kumo... I... ugh..." Trembling, he dropped to his knees, awareness coming into his eyes.

Kumo smiled painfully. "I knew... you could... do it..."

"Kumo..." Kiri looked into his eyes, slow realization coming over him. "Oh, hell. I did this... to you... Kumo-chan, I... I..."

Gently, Kumo reached up to touch his brother's face, the tips of his fingers brushing against the tears that had welled up in those loving crimson eyes. "Niisama, why are... you crying?"

"You're..." Kiri shook his head. "You're in so much pain... I hurt you... this is all my... all my fault...!"

"No," Kumo whispered dreamily, weaving his fingers into Kiri's long red hair. "You were being... being manipulated against your will... it's alright... it doesn't even hurt that much, really..."

Shaking his head seriously, Kiri carefully levered Kumo into his arms. "How much blood have you lost, to be talking like this...? These wounds are really bad... don't go to sleep on me, you hear? Stay awake, keep your eyes open! If you don't... you... you'll..."

"I'm... so tired..." Kumo's voice was faint, barely even a whisper. "Niisama... if you hold me... I know I'll be alright... so... don't worry... about... me..." Despite Kiri's warning, his eyes slowly fluttered closed as his weak smile evaporated.

"Kumo!" The loving fearful cry echoed in the still air, sending reverbations around the swirling ruins. With that, the last of the red mist dissipated, allowing those Kiri had held captive to move again.

It was to them that he now had to turn for aid.

"Please..." Voice and body both shaking, eyes wide and imploring, he dropped to his knees a few feet from where they stood. "Help him... help my brother...!"

The stranger standing nearest to him was a woman who looked to be in her late teens or early twenties, wearing a skintight orange dress, sensible boots, and a set of orange armwarmers that matched her dress. She had large, warm brown eyes and black hair pulled back into a double ponytail, as well as a look of deep concern on her face.

Nodding slightly, she walked up to him and knelt as well, putting one hand on the unconscious Kumo's head and the other on Kiri's shoulder. "I'll do what I can, but you have to tell me... what happened here? Why did you do those things? Try to explain while I help him..."

As the woman eased Kumo out of his arms, Kiri nodded, his face white and drawn. "It was all a trap set by Chaos," he whispered bitterly. There were collective gasps from the members of the army that fought against the Earl. "As I'm sure you heard, our world fell, although we fell fighting. I gave my life trying to protect my people, trying to protect my brother. We'd... been separated a while ago, but..." Kiri shook his head. "All the same... I couldn't let anything happen... I was fighting for him for once instead of for myself. I'd been jealous of his skill when we were children... I thought I'd left that all behind, but..." He shook his head again and fell silent.

"What happened?" the woman asked gently, in the middle of winding a length of bandage around the wound in Kumo's arm.

"One of the servants of Chaos is a necromancer," Kiri whispered, shuddering and crossing his arms as though suddenly cold. "He brought me back to life, and... he tricked me into wanting to fight Kumo... I was only free of his curse when I... when I... oh, Kumo... I'm so sorry..."

The black-haired woman, listening to Kumo's labored breathing with one ear and Kiri's tale with the other, shook her head in sympathy. "That's terrible... but I think you should know... your brother, I believe he's going to be alright. He's stronger than you might expect."

Kiri sighed, relief loosening the worry on his face. "Thank God..."

As if confirming the woman's words, Kumo let out a soft moan and shuddered, half-opening his eyes. "K-kiri-niisama...?"

"I'm so glad you're okay," Kiri nearly cried, stroking Kumo's hair with shaking hands. "I'm so glad...!"

"Wha... what happened?" the white swordsman asked weakly.

"You passed out. But you're going to be just fine, Kumo... just fine...!"

The sound of a click behind them made Kiri whirl.

Kaze had also been freed with the others. And it seemed that he had been waiting for this.

He was pointing his loaded shotgun straight at Kumo.

Automatically, Kiri launched himself up, standing in front of his brother with outstretched arms, as Kaze's finger tightened on the trigger. "What the hell do you think you're doing! Put that down right--"

There was a sharp report from the shotgun, and Kumo, who was struggling into a sitting position, cried out involuntarily as a thin line of blood traced a short pattern of deep red spots against the clouds.

With a soft gasp, Kiri fell straight into his brother's waiting arms, their reversal nearly stopping Kumo's heart in shock.

"Kiri! Kiri! No, oh, God, no!" Kaze's aim was deadly; the bullet had hit Kiri full in the chest. Kumo could feel his brother's hot blood beginning to spill over his arms even as he spoke.

"Kumo... where... are you...?" The broken whisper drew Kumo's attention back to Kiri's face. Although his crimson eyes were open, he didn't seem to see anything. "It's... so dark, I..."

"Here," Kumo said softly. "I'm right here... next to you..."

"I," Kiri tried to tell him through weakness and gasps for air. "I, I..." His hand, which had gripped Kumo's shoulder, traced up to his face, taking hold and pulling his brother down to him. Unable to speak, he had done the only thing he could to explain, bringing their lips to meet for the last time.

"I love you too," Kumo whispered back, his voice breaking into a sob. Kiri, too weak for words, caressed his face with gentle hands, catching tears about to fall.

With a sigh and deep love in his unseeing carmine eyes, Kiri let his hands drop. His eyes half-closed and glazed; his chest stilled and the rapid flow of blood from his wound ceased. The expression of tenderness on his face would be preserved for eternity. He was gone.

Kumo trembled with the effort of keeping his tears silent. With unsteady movements, he closed his brother's eyes, folding the gentle callused hands against the red breast. Finally, he could keep hold of himself no longer, and all he had suppressed came out in a rush: "Oh Kiri my brother my love my world I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry this is all because of my weakness forgive me forgive me forgive me I'm so sorry please don't go, don't leave me, I need you I need you I love you, stay, stay, stay, please... please... no..."

In an instant the tide changed, and whipping out his sword, he glared wrathfully at Kaze, who was still standing with his hand on the little gun that had caused all of this. "You _BASTARD!"_

With a wail of grief and rage, Kumo lunged at Kaze, who backed a step out of the way just in time. "Damn you! Why! Tell me why, you bastard! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! Damn you! You killed him! You murdered my Kiri! I _protected _you! I _trusted _you! I fought right alongside you, you bastard, and I was prepared to do so again! You killed him! You killed the only one in all the worlds I'll ever love! Why? Why? WHY!" By then Kumo's voice was a twisted shriek. "Damn you! DAMN YOU! **_DAMN YOU!" _**

There was a sudden hiss, and a distortion in the air, as Kaze, the kindly woman, the army, and their craft flickered into nothingness. The Ocean Puzzle had shifted them into some other world, and Kumo had nothing on which to vent his anguish.

Dropping his sword, he staggered back to Kiri's body, collapsed over his brother's still form, and gave in to tears. He sobbed long and hard, ignoring the rest of the world, his back to the space that was so empty it was painful. He would have given anything then to fade into nothingness, to follow Kiri into whatever realm of the dead to which he'd gone, to be back with his brother again. But duty, the hand that drew short his leash whenever he considered himself, dictated that he could not.

Levering himself up a little, he clumsily kissed his brother's face, cradling the warm body in his loose embrace. It was almost too easy to believe that this was just another of the many times they'd ended up curled together in a friendly cuddle in the middle of the day. Aching, Kumo gave Kiri one last long, passionate kiss on the lips, and wept.

Silent in his tears, he laid the body back down, then knelt beside it. Duty could call all it wanted, but he simply could not abandon Kiri to this empty place just yet. He would hold the vigils that custom dictated for as long as he had to. Only then would he be able to go back to that _place, _back to those who had beyond doubt orchestrated this murder.

"Chaos," he whispered bitterly.

That was the last word he spoke for the next seven days.


	5. Inner Universe

Inner Universe

DISCLAIMER: This one does not own either Final Fantasy: Unlimited or Stand Alone Complex. If this one did, this one would be very rich and would not need to post anything on FF-Net. By the way, this one has no idea why this one is referring to this one's self in the common third person. This one thinks that perhaps Cheza is getting to be a bad influence on this one's mind.

_:Angely i demony kruzhili nado mnoj_

_Razbivali ternii i zvyozdnye puti:_

The dark night swirled above me, the tie-dyed black and navy sea of clouds and sky seeming to ripple with its own life. Cold numbed my nearly bare body--I was grateful; otherwise I would be in blinding pain. All that I wore was a skintight white leotard; its spandex fabrics gave me nearly no protection against the elements. Cold was making me dizzy. At this altitude--at this time of the year--such a thin garment, with short sleeves and legs, was the equivalent of jumping into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, without clothing, in the pit of winter. The wetness didn't help, either.

Blood was streaming down from the wound in my side, leaving trails of dark crimson wherever I stepped. Standing here, I was creating a shallow puddle around my left ankle, beginning to lap over my right foot as well. That was the other reason I was dizzy. Blood loss does that to a person.

I knew that I was quickly losing my grasp on the world around me. Not only the world around me, but the one inside me too: Memories were fleeting, floating away with the mist of my breath on the chill breeze. Now. I had to do it now, before I lost everything entirely.

When the end came, I still wanted to be myself.

_:Ne znaet schast'ya tol'ko tot_

_Kto ego zova ponyat' ne smog...:_

Shivering, I stepped up next to the thin curb at the top of the building, turned around, and set my right foot upon it, heel first. Then my left.

I was balanced on the razor edge of a knife. It wouldn't take long to blow me over.

The sensation of blood sliding down the inside of my thigh made my entrails squirm within me. Even this long after it, I still felt sick. This would be one of the memories I took with me. It would not float away as easily as the pleasant ones. The thick dark blood welling from between my legs was a hateful reminder of what I had endured here, kept prisoner for over a week. The most effective torture. Stolen, what I had meant to give to someone else. Stolen... something I could never get back.

_:I am calling calling now, spirits rise and falling_

_Soboj ostat'sya dol'she...:_

The word was twisted, hateful, sour. Evil.

Rape. I had been raped.

But I hadn't told them anything.

_:Calling calling, in the depth of longing_

_Soboj ostat'sya dol'she...:_

I hadn't wanted _him _to be my first time. I hadn't wanted _him _to take my innocence.

Let me forget. Let me forget and remain myself... just a little longer...

I leaned backwards, and the tears flew from my eyes as I fell.

_:Stand alone... where was life when it had a meaning:_

I curled my legs to my chest and let go. I let go of the pain and the fear. One more time, falling through endless space, from the roof of one of the tallest buildings in the city. A trial I would not survive.

Death is intimate. I who have died many times long ago know it to be so. Death is emptiness. Death is protection. Death is safety. Safety.

My only regret was that I had not confessed my true feelings before this death. My only regret... that I still did not know the warmth in lovers' words when they spoke of crossing the last barrier. I still did not know. Perhaps now would never know.

The thin ribbon of my collar floated around my curled body, and I closed my eyes, ready to embrace the nothingness to follow.

And that was when my battered body took over.

_:Stand alone... nothing's real anymore and...:_

By instinct and training, my curl flipped over inches above ground, so that my bare feet took the soft impact against the jagged asphalt. Involuntarily, I opened my eyes and began to run, ghosting along like a white shadow over the perimeters of the huge building.

With every breath of mist that escaped my lips, more of me was disappearing. With every drop of blood from my wounds, more of me was dying.

_:...beskonechnyj beg..._

_Poka zhiva ya mogu starat'sya na letu ne upast',_

_Ne razuchit'sya mechtat'... lyubit..._

_...beskonechnyj beg...:_

I did not notice when the street first began to maim the soles of my bare feet. I only noticed when the raw flesh was ripped wide by the uneven amalgamation of gravel and tar. I think I cried. I only know that I kept running.

I do not know when my captors realized I had escaped. I only knew that a searchlight chased me as I headed onto the main road, my feet only so much raw and ruined meat, bleeding heavily from them and from the sword wound in my lower belly and where the shock of painful penetration had torn my flesh. I do not know either when I began to slow, to fall backward, to lose consciousness. Suddenly the mist I breathed was stained red, and my lungs could take no more, and I slipped backwards, coughing, coughing, flecks of blood exploding from my aching chest.

The searchlight was no longer there. I would die free.

_:Calling calling for the place of knowing_

_There's more than what can be linked:_

The voices that shouted my name floated from a long way away, and I could not place them. A woman's voice, a girl's, a grown man's...

And the voice I had cried to hear, in my fevered dreams, when the one who abused me climaxed...

_:Calling calling, never will I look away_

_From what life has left for me:_

He had come for me... he had not abandoned me...

Memory broke apart and shattered like so much fragile glass, leaving me with my lifebreath, my lifeblood. All I knew was what had happened to me, was that I would not die in vain, nor alone.

_:Yearning yearning for what's left of loving:_

Warm gentle hands slid beneath my icy body and lifted me into equally warm gentle arms.

_:Soboj ostat'sya dol'she...:_

A soft cracked voice begged me to open my eyes, to say something.

_:Calling calling now, spirits rise and falling:_

I did, letting fractured images of a once-familiar face swim across my vision.

_:Soboj ostat'sya dol'she...:_

I had something to say to the young man--boy, really--who held me in his arms with such tenderness. It lingered from... the other time. The time before. I couldn't remember. Why couldn't I...

The words left my lips with a last puff of mist, in a whisper even I could barely hear.

_:Calling calling, in the depth of longing:_

_"I love you..."_

_:Soboj ostat'sya dol'she...:_

**As he said those words, those shocking, momentous words, he slipped into unconsciousness. His once slim, soft body, now bloody and emaciated, went limp in my arms.**

**His breath rattled in his throat. We wouldn't have much time to save him.**

**What frightened me most was the look in his eyes as he whispered the three words I had secretly been longing for, all these long years. Only the faintest flicker of recognition had lit those jade green pools of vagueness.**

**He didn't remember. Anything. Except, it seemed, what he felt for me...**

**I couldn't bite back the tears as I bent over the battered shell of his body and softly kissed his cracked and parted lips. The taste of him, superimposed with coppery blood, flooded my mouth, and I cried for him, for what he had lost, for what he would have to regain by so much hard work.**

**"We have to get him medical attention." Lisa's whisper barely got through the thick grief that had dulled everything around me. "I'm not sure how much longer he can hold on without a blood transfusion and life support. What did they do to him?"**

**I already knew. I couldn't say it, and choked on the words. Instead, I carefully cradled my little brother's body to my chest, looked between my companions, and began to head off at a trot towards the hospital we had passed on the way.**

**I would not let myself lose what I had just found.**

**---**

Author's Note: The English translation of this song can be found on the "Animelyrics" website. If enough requests come in, I will write the background and continuation of this story.


	6. Sleeping with a Photograph

Sleeping with a Photograph

DISCLAIMER: All characters' names belong to and have been borrowed from Square-Enix and Gonzo. Paper publication rights for this story belong to Anthology of Poetry, Inc.; Internet publication rights belong to However, the story content belongs to me and me alone, got it?

_In my mind_

_Everything we did was right_

_Open your eyes, I'll still be by your side_

_How could I ever have been so blind?_

_You give me something to sleep to at night..._

Michelle Branch, "Something to Sleep To"

It was amazing. When a house has more than one person in it, you can't hear anything but them. Just the slightest sound he or she makes is perfectly audible. His or her living makes it a noisy household. But then, when you're alone in a house, the silence is incredible. You can hear every little noise in the house like you never could when someone else was with you.

The ticking of the clock was giving him a headache.

The drip of the leaking tap, which he'd always meant to have fixed someday, was a vague annoyance.

The phone rang in the distance. It sounded like a siren.

But worst of all was the silence.

Cliché as it sounded, it was absolutely _deafening._

The phone rang a few more times, then clicked as the answering machine came on. After about a minute, he heard the voice ringing through the painfully empty halls.

_"Hey. It's me, Lisa--remember me? We were at school together... but... anyway. I'm just calling to see if you're okay." _(Pause.) _"You are okay, right? ...I guess you must be out, or busy. Listen. I'm sorry to bother you like this, but I really am concerned. After all, you are..." _(Another pause.) _"...alone now. And it's no fun being that way. ...If you ever need anything, please, call me! You can find my number in the phone book. ...Um. So. ...Bye."_

A click. She'd hung up.

Yes, he remembered Lisa. She'd gone to the same high school as the four of them, quite some time ago. They'd also gone to the same college; she'd majored in investigative journalism and minored in Japanese lit. She hadn't been close, but she'd still been a friend, so of course she would have heard.

Another long, loud silence. The emptiness was beginning to make his ears hurt.

With a sigh, he turned over, looking at the empty place beside him. The blankets were still crumpled, the sheets still messy--they hadn't bothered to make it that day. Like the silence, it was an empty hole in his life... in his heart. A yawning chasm that could never be spanned.

The only thing there, of course, was the picture frame.

He'd seen the photo itself so many times that it was engraved in his mind. It was an older picture of the four of them, taken while he was in twelfth grade and the others in middle and elementary school. It showed them as they had been--laughing, cheerful, not a care in the world. A young teenage boy with crimson hair and eyes, cracking up, grabbing a ten-year old with soft short white hair, jadeine eyes, and a serious case of the giggles by his bare stomach, a preteen girl with stubborn silver braids striking a confident pose for the camera, and himself, trying not to smile but failing miserably. The people in the picture were whole, together, complete in a way he would never be again. They had no idea what would happen in the future and didn't care--to them it was a blank book in which they would write the story. None of them knew how quickly that book would close for some of them.

Now, he was the only one left.

For the girl--his sister--they'd always known there was the possibility. She'd been born with a weak heart, and one day when she was fifteen it had just given out. It had been hard, but his friends had been there for him, and he'd managed to get through it.

So how would he manage to get through this...?

He wouldn't. There was no one to help him through it this time.

The phone rang again. He tried to tune it out, but the message cut through the block in his ears and he heard it perfectly well.

_"Hi... it's Lisa again. Father Markio just told me that you haven't replied to any of his calls to set up the funeral. I know that this is hard, but... look, the Father's called his parents and _they've _said that he should talk to you because you were the closest to him for all these years. You've got to call him back! The funeral has to be the way he would've wanted it. It's the least we can do for him now. Don't just sit there feeling sorry for yourself! This was your friend!" _(Pause.) _"I'm sorry if I sounded angry. This has been kind of hard for me, too. Just... please call Father Markio. He just wants to help." _(Click and hang up.)

Funeral. She'd said it twice. _Funeral. _It was a curse word, a horrible horrible curse word. It was too cruel... just too cruel to put him in a place of earth and stone and sadness and tears, too cruel to burn his body to ash and keep those remains in a kiln, like caging his soul. He did not belong in a place like that. He had been a gentle person, warm and humble and affectionate and _real. _Real in a way that the word _funeral _was not.

However, he could not help but remember...

---

_"Hey, Kaze? Have you ever wondered what your funeral would be like?"_

_He frowned. "Well, that certainly came out of nowhere." He paused, then shook his head. "No, not really. I've always considered that kind of thing to be way too morbid."_

_The white-haired boy sighed and leaned back against the summer chair, kicking his bare feet in the air. "Well, me... I've thought about it a lot, and I... can I tell you about it?"_

_Not sure whether he was supposed to be amused or alarmed, he nodded. "Sure. Go ahead."_

_"I'd want to be buried beside my brother, right next to him. I don't want a big monument or anything, just a simple little marble headstone is fine. Not one of those stereotypical graveyard things either... a plaque would be better. And roses." He stretched, smiling dreamily. "In the casket and all over the grave itself. I want to sleep in a sea of white roses. Around the plaque, there could be some purple and blue stuff too... phlox, forget-me-nots, that kind of thing. And dandelions. Like Niisama's grave, where he said as long as the rose bush and the red fern stayed, never touch the dandelions. I loved going there last year. He would have thought it was funny... the entire plot was covered with dandelions." His smile had become wistful. "Just exactly like that..."_

_He reached forward and shook the boy's shoulder. "Hey... are you okay?"_

_"Yes, I'm fine. Why?"_

_"All this funeral talk... it makes me worry about you. You haven't been yourself ever since it happened. I just... I can't help but be concerned when you talk like this." He shook his head, letting his long horsetail snap from side to side._

_"Kaze, I'm fine. It's been horrible, but I'm fine. I'm not going to commit suicide, so get that stupid parental look off your face. I've thought of this stuff more since he... died... but... we used to wonder, as little kids, what would happen when we passed away. We worked it all out and the vision hasn't changed a bit since then."_

_"Okay..." He leaned forward and kissed the younger boy's soft hair. "I trust you."_

---

He'd tell the priest, Father What's-His-Name, sometime later. Right now it just hurt too much.

Thinking about it hurt way too much.

He liked feeling cauterized, like he did at the moment. That way, he could drift through the hours unaware of time's passing.

Like the poor broken corpse that now lay in the keeping of the local funeral service.

Doubtless, the blood had been wiped away and the broken bones reset so that there could be an open casket service, if it was needed. But the coldness and the stillness... those were things that could never be repaired so easily. On the outside, it was still him, but on the inside... as soon as it had happened, he'd known. There was just some kind of difference. No spirit. No soul. What made him the person he was had irrevocably... _gone. _No explanation for it.

It was the same kind of suspension that he wanted to feel. He wanted to pretend he was a corpse himself, almost.

The phone rang again.

_"Okay, they just told me that you haven't so much as gone out of that stupid house since you went home after the accident! What in the world are you DOING in there? If you don't pick up the phone, I'm going to come in and--"_

He ignored the rest.

The picture. That stupid picture. The glass was cracked in two places, little hairline fractures that were common in CD cases. They'd just had an argument about it, three days before the accident, and it had caused a rift up until that day, when he'd decided to take his little roommate out for ramen by way of apology.

---

_"It's unhealthy and at this point it's just silly," he'd shouted, irritated. "That's why you're going to put it up on the dresser where it belongs!"_

_"No!" The frame was clutched to his chest, the way it was every single night. "No! You don't understand! I can't manage to go to sleep without it! I've tried, you know I have! But I can't! Every night for almost fourteen years I had him beside me... every night! Now this is all I have--a memory! Don't make me give that up!"_

_"You have me," he snapped. "Doesn't that mean anything to you--anything at all?"_

_"You just don't understand!" he cried. His eyes were heavy with tears, and he looked like he was about to break down at any minute. "I care about you, I really do. But I don't love you the same way! He was the center of my life. He was always there. And he loved me, with all his heart... he loved me! I loved him, too, more than anything else in the world! Now this is the only thing I have! Are you going to take him away from me! Are you going to be like everyone else and tell me it's wrong!"_

_Running a hand through his long hair, he sighed and shook his head. "That's not it. If you keep clinging to that thing, it's going to break. You'll be sticking glass shards all over our bed and you'll likely kill us both. Besides, it's been two years. Admittedly, it was a terrible thing for you to have to see your brother die in front of you. All the same, you've had time to heal. Time to get over it."_

_"You're such a stupid jerk!" the white-haired teen sobbed, fleeing from the room in his oversized sleepshirt, photograph still clutched to his chest._

---

He hadn't understood then, but he sure as hell did now.

_Kumo. Kiri. Aura. _All of them, gone. They'd left him with the sweet and bitter memories, left him for a better place. And now he was the one sleeping with a photograph.

There was a loud, angry pop-click, and the front door swung open.

He didn't move. Lisa, undoubtedly, carrying out her threat. Boots clomped up the stairs after the heavy wood shut again, and predictably, the figure of a black-haired, brown-eyed young woman emerged in the doorway.

The anger on her face melted when she saw him there. "Hi," she said uncertainly, then walked over to him. "It's... been a bit, hasn't it."

He didn't respond.

She walked over and sat down next to the bed. "I'm sorry, Kaze. You've lived with him for the past few years, and it has to have been harder than I know. It's okay to feel hurt and sad and lonely. But it's not okay to just leave poor little Kumo alone in that place without a decent burial."

"Roses," he managed, speaking into the pillow.

"Pardon?"

"He wanted white roses. His... his casket should be filled with them. Plant them over the grave site, too. He... he told me he wanted to sleep in a sea of roses..." His voice twisted, cracked, bent until speech was nearly impossible. "Beside his brother..."

"Kaze..." Lisa stared at him out of wide eyes, beginning to realize what it meant for him to say that. She put an arm around his shoulders. "I think you should know... those drivers... the people in that car were found to be drunk and high on all kinds of unbelievable drugs. I don't think they even saw the two of you until the accident."

The cauterization was slipping away. He grasped for it, but forgot that he could only do so with one hand now, and it deserted him, leaving him to the pain.

"He saved me... they were going to hit me, but he shoved me out of the way... he saved my life, and all I could do was watch him die in my arms...!"

Lisa hugged him awkwardly from where she sat. "Those stupid people are in jail for life now. They won't hurt anyone else..."

He gave her a tearful, angry glare. "Even that won't bring back Kumo's life or my arm, now will it? Don't be so stupid!" And unable to stand it any more, he broke down.

Lisa patiently waited out the storm, letting him cry as hard as he needed to, until he was unable to do so any longer, numbed, silenced.

---

_"Kumo!"_

_The world was shifting around him, twisting, hazing. The rush of blood from the mangled remnants of his right arm made him light-headed, made it hard for him to search, but he had to keep going, had to keep on..._

_"Kumo! KUMO!"_

_He saw it: A white, twisted, broken form lying in the middle of the road. Clamping his hand over the worst of his wounds, he ran to kneel beside his friend._

_"Kumo! Say something!"_

_The little sixteen-year-old let out a weak moan and struggled to open his eyes. "Ka...ze...?"_

_Reaching out with his good arm, he cradled the broken body to his chest. "I'm here. I'm here. It's okay. It's all going to be okay... I'm going to get you help, I promise..."_

_"Too late... for that..." Kumo tried to say, his voice cracking, blood tracing from the corner of his mouth. "Don't have... much longer... want to say... sorry... didn't mean... what I said... that day..."_

_"Don't talk like that," Kaze cried, alarmed. "I'm going to save you!"_

_"You already did," Kumo whispered. "I love you, Kaze..."_

_"KUMO, NO!" Kaze shouted, desperate. "You can't...!"_

_But it was already too late. Those warm, beautiful jadeine eyes had closed for the last time._

_"KUMO!"_

---

"He was my best friend," he managed, face buried in the whiteness of the pillow.

"I know," Lisa told him sadly. "I'm so sorry. I want to help you, but... will you let me?"

Would he let her...?

Would he let himself be saved...?

_"I'm going to save you"._ That was what he had told Kumo, even though it was already far too late. He knew firsthand what it was like to watch someone you loved die right before your eyes. He had seen it happen three times--to his sister, to Kumo's beloved brother, and lastly to Kumo himself.

Would he do that to someone else? Could he? Could he consciously hurt his friends that way?

No.

Weakly, he nodded, and let Lisa hug him tightly as he blacked out from exhaustion.

_fin_


	7. Birth

Birth

DISCLAIMER: Don't own it, wish I did, but don't... Kageshi and Madori are sort of mine, I guess.

WARNINGS: Umm... blood, a little innuendo... trauma and angst... and childbirth, obviously. Don't like, don't hafta read. So there.

Her time was coming, and everyone knew, after the last, that it would be hard for her. Thanks to the support of the healer and her partner, she had barely managed to survive, but just barely. Though it was unusual for their people, there was always the possibility that she wouldn't make it. But she knew the risk that lay ahead of her, and everyone else knew that there was nothing they could say about it.

She ranged aimlessly throughout the stone and cloud of their village, the skirts of the long dress she and others in her state chose to wear trailing in the wisps of white around her. Long silken tufts of hair, ranging in waves between golden-blonde to pale spring green, twisted around her as though supporting her; her fair-lashed emerald eyes remained pinned down, heavy with worry. And always, both of her slender hands rested on her tightly swollen belly, feeling the tiny motions of the fetus within.

Madori was heavily, almost unbearably pregnant; she would give birth very, very soon.

And all the village waited with bated breath to see if the same would happen to her second child as had to her first.

At first glance, they seemed an ordinary family--Madori with her song and art, Kageshi with his swordsmanship, and their little three-year-old son with his innocent mischief and the charm that brightened both his parents' lives. But a second look at the son himself would blow all that preconception away.

The child had not Madori's warm, fair coloring or Kageshi's nearly-black blue hair and golden eyes. His short and ruffled hair was pure crimson, and his eyes the exact same shade. His birth had nearly killed Madori; the slight, slender body frame of their people was ill-suited for such things. The realization that came with their first sight of him had nearly killed both his parents again.

They had known, from the start, which of the two horrors it was. Mystarian culture strictly forbade intercourse before life-bonding; Madori had lost her virginity on the same night her son was conceived. There was no possibility of illegitimacy. No, the truth was far worse for Madori and Kageshi to bear.

Their little Akai Kiri was ill-fated.

He had no idea of it himself, of course. Who could tell such a young child that he was bound for misery in his future years? Who could destroy his happiness like that? Who could bear even the thought? Kiri managed to charm everyone he met; he was an enthusiastic, charismatic child. The soft carmine locks that condemned him in the eyes of destiny only made him cuter. They fluffed wildly around the three short, stubby nubs of bone that would one day lengthen into daggerlike spikes protruding from his forehead, falling forward into his bright eyes, framing cheeks ruddy from the long hours of running around with the other children of the village.

It was bad enough that little Kiri had to carry such a burden, but would Madori pass the curse on to her next child as well?

That was what she could not help but wonder, watching Kageshi get into a gentle tussle with their redheaded son.

She felt so tired lately, so out of tune with herself and the path that was meant to guide her through her life. Her own mother had told her frankly that a woman was pregnant for exactly as long as she could bear it... and then two more weeks. Madori was fed up, frazzled, at the very bottom of her deep well of patience. It was hard even to meditate when she felt as though the weight of the world had compressed itself and had been steadily growing back to optimal mass inside her uterus. And the added pressure of the wondering... it was enough to make her go out of her mind.

But there were nights when, so exhausted and frightened and depressed that she could cry, a tiny, miniscule movement was enough to remind her of how fiercely she already loved the little flicker of life that would so quickly separate from her.

Movement...

The baby hadn't moved at all for quite a few hours.

Madori shook her head. No. The same thing had happened with Kiri, not long at all before he'd been born. She wouldn't forget terrible fear like _that _so quickly. She would not start to believe unless the body that came from her own was stiff and cold and colorless. Her child would not be stillborn.

There it was again; the sharp pang that reminded her the hour would be near indeed. She shook her head again, trying to ignore it, but let out a swift gasp as a _second _pang ripped through her. She stumbled to her feet and almost fell before Kageshi's hands closed in a vicelike grip around her arms. "Madori..." he said softly.

"The healer," she managed, gritting her teeth. "Kageshi...!"

He looked down at his son, his fine midnight-colored hair snapping against his cheeks with the speed of his movement. "Kiri... please fetch the healer. Tell him that it's time."

"But, Dad--" the child protested, staring at his parents with wide carmine eyes.

"Go," Kageshi said firmly. "For your mother's sake."

Kiri gave them one last wounded look and fled.

---

The healer, a young man with fawn-brown hair and sky-colored eyes, arrived within the span of five minutes, firmly instructing Kiri to stay outside. Hard births were typical among their kind, but Madori's family had a history of just barely pulling through that was worrying. For the past nine months, all of her strength had gone into supporting her baby; when it came down to the crucial moment, she had almost nothing left.

As the understandably anxious Kageshi looked helplessly on and the healer (whose name was Kohaku) expended a steady stream of power to keep his charge alive, Madori strained with no visible result for almost three days.

And on the dawning of the third...

Kageshi winced visibly as Madori let out a sharp cry of pain, and flinched at the ripping sound that accompanied it. A pale-faced Kohaku placed both hands on her burgeoning belly and whispered something in the ancient language; shuddering, Madori pushed, the cords standing out in her slender throat. Kohaku, looking distracted, helped pull the pale body of an infant from its mother's. Instantly, Madori collapsed, her breathing ragged, her fair skin coated in sweat, as the young healer hurriedly but efficiently severed the umbilical cord and swiped streaks of blood from the newborn's body, his attention wavering between mother and child.

Kohaku passed the baby to Kageshi. "You've a second son, and my congratulations. Please hold him... I have to try to stop Madori-san's hemorrhaging... the crowning tore her open, and if I don't do anything now..." Shaking his head fretfully, he ran over and placed his hands on Madori's now much flatter abdomen firmly, speaking sternly in the healer's vein of the old speech.

Kageshi looked down at the newborn in his arms. His and Madori's second child was pale-skinned, the tiny fists blue-tinged, and very still. If not for the very slight motion as the baby's chest rose and fell, he would have thought his son was dead. The baby had extremely fair hair that could've been pale blonde or white; even this early on, it was apparent that he had his mother's soft features instead of his father and brother's sharper face. Although he was quiet--instead of the typical bawling of healthy newborns, he had merely let out a soft whimper of protest--the tight grip of his hands on his father's shirt proclaimed him a survivor. Kageshi was relatively sure that his child would live.

Looking up, he sighed in relief as he realized that Kohaku's efforts were beginning to stem the rush of blood from between Madori's legs. Knowing he could do nothing greater to help her, he simply walked to her side, knelt, and touched her shoulder, gently placing their son in her arms.

Weakly, the young mother touched her baby's face, giving father and child alike an exhausted smile, and passed out with her son still gripped loosely in her arms.

At the same time, Kohaku straightened and sighed. "The danger's passed," he said wearily. "She may bleed again, but it won't be serious." Walking over to Kageshi's side, he gave the dark-haired swordsman a lopsided smile. "Let's see the little lad."

Gently, Kageshi pried his son out of Madori's arms, holding him so that the healer would be able to see. Kneeling, Kohaku whistled. "A seven-point... no wonder the crowning ripped his poor mother open." Careful not to actually touch the baby, he pointed at the seven nubs of bone that already showed prominently through the soft downy hair that covered his head. "He'll grow up to be strong." Taking in the bluish hands and feet, the healer shook his head. "You were both lucky. Another five minutes and you'd have lost the little one... he was already starting to suffocate. With a start like this... I'd be careful of his health over the next few months. He might be sickly for a little while." Looking up at Kageshi, he met the swordsman's golden eyes. "Have you a name for him?"

Kageshi shook his head. "No... we decided to wait, like we had with Kiri."

Both of them fell silent; the nameless little boy was stirring. With a second muted whimper, he half-opened his eyes, then resettled. Kageshi let out an immense sigh of relief--his son's eyes were a pale jade color, not red. But as he turned to Kohaku, a sense of wariness settled over him. The healer was staring at the infant with mixed disbelief and horror.

"What is it?" he asked slowly. "What's wrong?"

Kohaku slowly shook his head. "I can't believe this is happening in our time," he whispered. "But it has to be. White hair, jadeine eyes and an accursed brother... all of the conditions have been met..." He reached forward with one trembling hand and carefully traced an eight-pointed star on the baby's forehead, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Unlimited..."

Kageshi froze. "What! That's not possible! It's been said for centuries that the last battle in the Chaos wars _ended _the cycle of the Unlimited!"

Kohaku stared at him, a bleak look on his pleasant face. "Neither you nor I have the will to contend with something of this nature," he said softly, sorrowfully. "All healers specializing in childbirth are taught to recognize the signs of the Unlimited as a tradition; I know what I'm seeing even though I don't understand." He hesitated, then spoke again. "When you named your first child... did you have any idea what the portents could be...?"

Kageshi groaned and shook his head. "Madori and I decided to name him after the one 'accursed' swordsman who didn't end as miserably as the rest. We weren't really thinking about it... neither of us thought it was possible, because it _isn't... _what's happening here...?"

"You know what you have to name him now, don't you?" Kohaku said softly. "Legend demands it... the sacred name, that which holds up our own world..."

A sober look on his face, Kageshi bent down to kiss the top of his son's head, his midnight-colored hair falling into his eyes, obscuring his expression. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse with emotion. "My little Kumo... Shiroi Kumo, the star that fell from the heavens... my dear son..."

Kohaku laid a gentle hand on the swordsman's shoulder. "You have to find a way to tell her," he said huskily. "I'm sorry... I truly am... but there's nothing I can do now..."

"It's alright," Kageshi said heavily. "Go on home. And tell Kiri it's alright to come in and see his mother, even though she's sleeping. Madori and I... we'll deal with the consequences when she awakens."

Giving dark-haired man and fair-featured child a sad nod, Kohaku retreated, speaking softly to Kiri as he headed back to his own home.

---

For the next few days, Madori drifted in and out of sleep, staying awake only long enough to nurse her baby and exchange a few words with her life-partner. For his part, Kageshi found himself completely unable to say anything about the matter of their new child's fell destiny. Madori was so happy, believing that their baby was like any normal village child... and she was so exhausted from the effort of the birthing. He couldn't bear to drop this explosive piece of news in her lap while she was still so weak...

Although he felt a little guilty about it, Kageshi had also banished Kiri to the home of one of the other children, a black-haired, blue-eyed boy named Hoshi who was little Kiri's friend. He and his parents had gladly offered to take Kiri in, knowing exactly how bad Madori's condition was and seeing that Kageshi was quite plainly anxious (though they misjudged the reason).

Once Madori's natural rhythm had restabilized, she began to realize that something was quite obviously wrong. "Kageshi... what is it?" she asked plaintively, looking up at her partner with a line of anxiety creasing her brow. "The look on your face is starting to scare me. What's wrong?"

The dark-haired swordsman shook his head, turned in a circle, then sat down abruptly, his head in his hands. "Madori..."

"What is it?" she demanded, her hold on her baby tightening protectively.

"It's about... our son," Kageshi said helplessly.

"Kiri... what is it now?" Madori murmured, her emerald eyes flashing instantly from tension to despair. "What's wrong this time?"

Kageshi shook his head, unable to look her in the face. "Not Kiri... our baby, our Kumo..."

Madori flinched in surprise. "I thought we were waiting...?" she began, then frowned. "But... _'Kumo'? _You know that name is forbidden for all but the Chosen One... so why...?"

Kageshi nodded miserably, still refusing to meet her gaze.

She shook her head, uncomprehending, and looked down at her newborn child.

"Kohaku... knew the lore, and he swears it's the truth. I don't know how or why, but..." Kageshi said helplessly, spreading his hands and finally looking up at Madori, his golden eyes pleading.

"No," Madori whispered, shaking her head. "NO! This can't be! I won't have another accursed child! NO!" Her face was twisted with horror and grief, with tears already beginning to spill down her cheeks.

Kageshi put his arms around her and baby Kumo as she broke down, pressing his lips to her long silky hair. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

"Why...?" Madori managed through her storm of tears. "Why us...? And why our baby...? Why... why has it come to this?"

Kageshi looked up and shook his head, casting his sight around the room. As his eyes slid past the door, he froze, frowning slightly.

It was ajar; Kiri stood frozen before its frame, his child's face pale, his eyes wide and tearful. From the pained expression on his face, it was apparent that he'd heard everything.

"Akai-kun..." Kageshi said softly, using his son's pet name.

With that, Kiri turned and ran, a bright streak of red heading into the distance.

Kageshi bit his lip and looked from him to Madori and back, torn between his love and his child.

"Kiri... he heard, didn't he..." Still shaking, she wiped her face. "Please go to him... he shouldn't have heard something like that... please..."

Kageshi bowed his head and nodded slightly, standing up and walking out on the path his son had taken. He almost wished he could wake out of this living nightmare and do it all over, even if it meant never having any children with Madori. Their boys didn't deserve the fates that had been placed on their shoulders by the cruel whim of destiny... and now more than ever, he knew that they simply couldn't go back.

---

Kiri sat on the edge of the stone stairway, hands on his knees, staring out across the wide cloudfield into the horizon. Only the stubborn set of his mouth, the crease on his brow, and the desolation in his crimson eyes betrayed his inner struggle with his emotions, his desperate battle not to cry.

"Akai-kun..." Feeling guilt and grief wrench at his chest, Kageshi sat quietly at his son's side. "I'm sorry, little one. We hadn't meant for you to know..."

Kiri gave his father a brief look of pain and returned to staring bleakly across the landscape.

Grimacing inwardly, Kageshi decided to switch tactics. "You know the legend of the Unlimited, right, Akai-kun?"

Blinking, Kiri looked up at him and nodded hesitantly. "The story of the hero Kumo who battled Chaos with his companions..."

"Yes..." Kageshi felt the throb of anguish in his heart and put a hand on his son's head. "The cycle of the hero who fought an enemy too powerful to defeat, who sacrificed his life to save our world... the chosen one. It's said that two of the Earth People fought alongside the hero and his brother in that climactic battle, despite the wars that had torn us apart. ...All of Mystaria believed that it would be the end of the long spiral when Chaos fell then, but it seems that our hopes were for naught. I don't know why it is, but the Unlimited... have begun to revive."

Kiri was silent, but there was a question in his carmine eyes.

Kageshi sighed heavily, aching for his children. "Kohaku, the healer who helped your mother when the baby came, has told us that there are unmistakable signs that point to your brother... being the reincarnation of that hero. His hair, his eyes... and then, there's you. An older brother with red hair and eyes that would mark any other child as accursed."

"But... if the baby will be a hero, then why is Mom...?"

It hurt to have to say it, but... he knew he was going to have to tell his son the truth. "Kiri... my son... the legends surrounding the Unlimited tell us that every time a hero rose to fight Chaos, the final battle has always ended in his death. Your mother and I... don't want that to happen to either of you." Kageshi laid his hands on Kiri's shoulders, staring into the child's wide eyes. "Grow strong, Akai-kun... you must protect your brother, always. I don't know if there is any truth to the legend. But if you and your brother... if you and Kumo are truly the chosen, then you must have the strength to protect him until the time comes for him to fight. I won't ask you to forgive us, your sinful parents, but... the reason your mother said those things... was because she loves you, as I do, and doesn't want to see any harm come to you. Do you understand?"

Kiri nodded, but something in his eyes still seemed to be pained. "Dad..."

"Yes, Akai-kun...?"

"Can I... see him now?"

Kageshi smiled sadly and ruffled his son's hair. "Of course."

---

Kiri was silent upon seeing his brother for the first time. Although he didn't speak, there was a deep well of devotion in his eyes. Reaching out, he gently smoothed the soft white hair, and smiled when little Kumo stirred briefly in their mother's arms.

"He's so small," Kiri said softly, wonder in his voice.

"So were you," Madori told him, giving him a weary smile.

With almost hesitant motions, the red-haired child touched the baby's cheek, his heart racing with half-understood depths of love that he was too young to know how to express.

"I'll protect you," he whispered, too softly for either of his parents to hear. "I promise, I'll protect you forever."

_fin_


	8. Shacking Up

Shacking Up

**DISCLAIMER:** Don't own FF:U. Nopes. But I am the Cupid of FanFiction, and so in my fics I will proceed to hook up whoever I like. (grin) Just don't sue.

**Genre: **Romantic comedy (what else could it be, with a title like "Shacking Up"?)

**Rating:** T (teen) for sexual content and some mild sexual humor, as well as scenes of Kaze being taught how to kiss via hands-on experience. Literally. (:D)

**Warning: **This fanfiction DOES contain incestual shonen-ai. You have been warned. (MUAHAHAHAHA...)

**Pairings: **Kaze/Lisa with a little Kiri/Kumo on the side.

**Let's get this party started...**

---

BEEP BEEP BEEP-

There was a groan from beneath the orange-and-navy crocheted blanket on the sofa, and a tan-skinned left arm and hand reached out to pound the offending alarm clock into submission.

Almost as if by a second thought, the hand grabbed the clock and brought it beneath the blankets. There was a mumbled curse, and a rustle, and Kaze Kuroki threw the heavy cloth off his long body, still looking sleepy.

Rubbing the hand that had retrieved the clock across his eyes, the taciturn man groaned a second time. 8:30. He'd overslept, _again_. Old habits died hard; he'd been a late sleeper all his life, even though his sister Aura had always yelled at him to even _try _to wake up a little earlier. And now, he hated himself for that fact.

Lisa woke up at 5:30. That was what she set the alarm in her bedroom to. Lisa had to be at her workplace by 6:30. Lisa knew that Kaze periodically overslept, so she set his own alarm clock to 8:30, trying to have pity on him.

Kaze didn't _want _to have Lisa's pity. He'd rather get to see her in the morning before she ran off. Her work ran till 8:30 at night, and he was unemployed. All he could do was mooch around the house, or go out to pester the Hayakawas or Kumo and his brother. And of course, Lisa was too exhausted when she got home to do anything more than throw microwave dinners in to cook, eat, take a shower, and stagger into bed. She apologized to him every day, and he understood, but still...

Perhaps Lisa's over-hectic work week was the reason that Kaze's fumbling, awkward attempts to get his feelings across to her never went anywhere. He couldn't help it, even though he felt guilty about it all the time. He was new to her world. He couldn't write in Japanese; he could barely even read it. Any writing of his looked like chickenscratch anyway (it was his severe misfortune to be right-handed when his right hand was and always had been covered by the Magun). He had no people skills. The only thing he could really do was shoot, and most Japanese couldn't own firearms. So the prospect of his getting a job anytime soon was definitely out of the question, and in the meantime, Lisa still had to support both of them on her own.

It had been thirteen months since he'd come back with her to Sadogashima. Ever since then, they'd been living together, and all through the thirteen months, he'd tried and failed to tell her how he felt about her. Repeatedly.

Running a wire brush through his thick, tangled red-brown hair, Kaze sighed, then scowled at himself. You could barely call them more than roommates at this point. He didn't know at which part of their journey he'd started to care about her, but he had somewhere along the way and though he'd rather've died than said it out loud, he was crazy about her. She was beautiful. At five feet and five inches tall (one foot one shorter than him), she had long, lustrous black hair that shone with blue highlights when brushed, warm brown eyes, a classic Japanese face... and a serious affinity for the color orange. Whenever Kaze made the list, he had to skip over the size of her bust, although he certainly liked that too. Thinking about it too much gave him a nosebleed and made his work jeans seem unusually tight in a certain place.

Anyway, he really did like her. She was kindly in nature, and had always looked after him. Sometimes he thought that she might feel similarly to him, but she'd never said anything. And he was sick to death of the awkwardness between them.

Seeing as he hadn't been able to do anything yet, maybe it was time to finally give in and ask someone--anyone--for help in how the hell you approached someone about romantic feelings...

Snapping a rubber band around the tip of his horsetail, Kaze caught sight of a piece of paper resting on the table. A note in pencil was scribbled on it; it looked like Lisa's handwriting.

_"I'm sorry, but work is going to run late tonight and I won't be able to get back until at least 9. Dinner is up to you. There's food in the fridge, like always. ...I'm really sorry. -Lisa"_

Apologizing again. Well, at least it gave him time to mull over his options. Glancing at the day calendar Lisa kept propped up on the table next to her small television, Kaze noted that it was Friday. Good. He'd have Lisa all to himself for the next two days... and he'd have time to try to tell her.

Stretching, he jammed the apartment key into his jeans pocket, and ranged towards the door. He never ate breakfast, and besides, he'd just gotten an idea of who to ask. They'd been together for so long, and were almost sickeningly loving towards each other, so... it looked like they were his only choice.

With a sigh, Kaze left, locked up, and headed towards the neighboring apartment complex. He hated having to stoop so low as to ask them, but...

---

"Hello?"

Kaze stared. He couldn't help but ask. "What the hell are you doing, going around like that?"

Kumo Makenshi, Kaze's one-time rival and current best friend, blinked out of wide, innocent jadeine eyes, cocked his head, and looked down at himself. "...I don't see anything wrong with it..."

"You've been listening to Kiri too much," Kaze grumbled, still unable to take his eyes away. The slim young swordsman was wearing his ribbon choker, a white middy tank top with the words "Di Gi Charat" on it that bared his taut, smooth belly and the scar from the battle over a year ago, and a pair of what looked for all the world like girl's panties, complete with ribbon around the waistband.

Kumo shrugged, still puzzled, and stepped out of the doorway. "Come on in." He and his older brother Kiri Madoushi lived in a much smaller studio apartment. There was just one main room, which only Kumo's neatnik compulsions kept clean. Kiri was a notorious slob.

Kiri himself, clad in his swordsman's red shirt and a pair of low-slung jeans, lounged on the sofa, his long red hair piled behind him and a smirk in his crimson eyes. "Yo."

Kaze nodded stiffly, following Kumo into the apartment.

"You like my ototo-chan's outfit?" Kiri asked, grinning.

"You shouldn't exploit your brother like that," Kaze said sternly. He and Kiri were friends, in a manner of speaking. Their personalities clashed violently, but they tried for Kumo's sake.

"Well, you _did _come in while he was getting dressed." The grin widened (despite his otherwise honorable albeit mischievous nature, Kiri could sometimes be a bit lewd). "I think it's cute."

Kaze could see why. The panties were tight, showed a lot of skin, and left very little to the imagination. Inwardly, Kaze did a little dance of indignation--in competitions of size, Kumo had him sorely beat.

Blinking, the white-haired sword-summoner looked over his shoulder, in the middle of tugging on a pair of jeans very similar to his brother's. "What are you staring at?"

Embarrassed for his still-innocent friend, Kaze looked the other way. "Nothing."

"Sit down," Kumo urged, heading over to the couch to plant himself in Kiri's lap. Shrugging, Kaze did. "So, what brings you here today?"

Kaze paused, weighed the consequences, and burst out with it. "I need your help..."

He explained as quickly as he could, cringing at the looks of sympathy on the Mystarian brothers' faces. He absolutely_ hated _being pitied.

"You've been with her for a year and a month and you're still sleeping on the _couch?" _Kiri said, shaking his head. "Yeah, you need our help."

Kaze winced. Trust Kiri to put it that way. "I'd like to do something for her... get her something... but what? What would she want?"

"Sex," Kiri answered instantly.

_"Niisama!" _Kumo gently bopped him upside the head. "I don't think they're at that point in their relationship yet..." Turning back to Kaze, he shrugged. "I don't know. Just be nice to her. Do something kind for her tonight. Make her dinner. She doesn't usually have the time to do that, right?"

"What should I make?"

Kumo thought for a moment, then smiled. "Aura told me once that you make good pescatore."

"No ingredients."

"Then go shopping! Homemade food is always worth the cost; it tastes a million times better than store-bought stuff."

"Where?"

Kumo stared. "You really are hopeless, aren't you? Never mind, don't answer, we'll go shopping with you later; we've got nothing better to do anyway."

"You should still get her something else, though." Kiri had sobered now that his advice was needed. "Flowers and chocolate are the most clichéd gifts on the planet, so don't even bother. Get her some other kind of food, though, cause the quickest way to _anyone's _heart is through their stomach. Ever heard the saying, 'feed me, I'm yours'? ...And I still say sex. You ever notice the way Lisa stares at you? She has it so bad for you, it's beautiful. The girl is mad for you. It'll only take a little work, and then sayonara sleeping on the couch."

"Don't be such a pervert," Kaze grumbled, crimson-faced.

"Lisa likes fruit, doesn't she?" Kiri continued, acting as if he'd never made those comments at all. "Get her a tart or something. I'm not the biggest fruit person, and even I love those."

"That's a good idea," Kumo said appreciatively, nodding. "Seeing how tired poor Lisa is all the time, why don't you fix dinner for her every day over the weekend? You make good ramen too, don't you?"

Kaze shrugged. "So, Friday and Saturday... then what?"

Kiri grinned. "Then we'll _coincidentally _offer to invite you two over for dinner. Kumo is an excellent cook, after all. Besides, then you'll be able to give us all the juicy details."

"Niisama!" Laughing, Kumo whacked his brother upside the head once again. Good-naturedly, Kiri rubbed his skull, still grinning. "But, Kaze, one thing concerns me... you know how you'll get close to her now, but... how are you actually going to do with _romancing _her? Not to offend you or anything, but... well..."

"You have the social skills of a rock," was Kiri's dryly helpful interjection.

"I would have put it a little more gently, but... well..." Kumo shrugged, then looked at Kaze, who had fallen silent.

"Yeah, do you even know how to _really _kiss a girl?" Kiri asked shrewdly.

Kaze mumbled something unintelligable.

"You don't, do you?" Kiri sighed. "Well, this won't do. The better you kiss, the more a girl will appreciate your mad love skillz."

"..." Kaze didn't know what to say to this.

"I _would _ask you to watch our demonstration to see how it's done, but we tend to get carried away and I don't want you ogling my ototo-chan's butt any more than you already have today." The redhead stood up, brushed off his jeans, and walked up to Kaze in a businesslike manner.

"What... are you doing...?" Kaze asked slowly. Kiri was a little bit too close for manly comfort.

"I'm going to teach you how to kiss," the swordsman told him matter-of-factly.

"But..." Helplessly, Kaze looked at Kumo, who was hugging his knees and hiding a smile behind them. "Couldn't...?"

"Oh, no." Kiri's crimson eyes blazed. "Kumo-chan is an excellent kisser, but I'm not going to inflict you on him until you have at least decent skill."

"... ..." The very flustered Kaze was once again at a loss for a response.

"Good. Now, pretend I'm Lisa." Kiri put his hands on his hips and looked a few inches up into Kaze's cerulean eyes brazenly.

"Wha... what...?"

"For the man who defeated Chaos last year, you can be surprisingly thick-skulled at times," Kiri said sharply, looking slightly disgusted. "I don't mean anything by this, you idiot, but there's no other way for you to learn and you need experience before you try anything with Lisa. Good sex makes use of your hands and mouth as well as _this." _Kiri's matter-of-fact-bordering-on-confrontational index finger jabbed Kaze's groin. "Dammit, if you're just going to stand there..." An angry hand tilted Kaze's face down as Kiri leaned up.

_This is so bizarre, _Kaze thought fleetingly as he let his lips part.

After about a minute or so, Kiri broke their contact, stepping back and crossing his arms. "I thought so. You just stand there like a rock, don't take any initiative, have no idea what the hell you're supposed to do with your hands, and don't know how to use your tongue. In other words, you're just short of being a hopeless case."

"Don't be too mean," Kumo said with a smile from his seat on the couch. "I don't think Kaze's ever been kissed like that before."

Kiri sighed, rolled his eyes, and shook his head. "Well, for now... you want to put your left hand on my, or Lisa's, hip or back. We'll get to upper body fondling later."

"F..f...fondling...?"

"Hopeless case," Kiri groaned.

After the initial weirdness of tonsil hockeying with his best friend's older brother, Kaze found himself relaxing. True to his words, Kiri was a good kisser, and slowly taught Kaze to rise to a similar skill level. Before long, he found himself rising to Kiri's almost coy advances, his breathing hard and rapid, and realized to his shock that Kiri was actually _responding, _clinging to him and half-swooning against his body.

Concluding one particularly successful session, Kiri grinned, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "You may not have all that much originality, but you sure are a quick study."

"Are you handing him over to me yet?" Kumo asked innocently.

"Just a minute," Kiri replied, waving a hand. "First we need to teach him how to fondle a girl without groping her." Grinning wider than the Cheshire Cat, he turned back to Kaze. "Okay. You've had your hand on my back the entire time. Now put it on my chest."

Kaze blinked; Kiri moved it for him.

"No, no, not like that, like _this. _You need a thumb out. You have to remember, you're going to actually be having your hand beneath a _girl's boob. _You need something to support it, and you need this here for... you can guess, you have a brain."

"Why do you know this?" Kaze asked in a mumble.

Kiri's grin grew even wider, if that was possible. "Oh, I was _hoping _you'd ask. Back when I needed lessons on how to treat Kumo-chan, I asked my friend Arashi for help. She threw in the fondling lessons as a bonus for being so nice and learning so well... you don't just have to use this for some girl's breasts, you know. It's applicable to guys."

Kaze decided he didn't want to know how that worked.

"Anyway, squeeze. No, not that hard. That's groping. That's a no-no. She'll slap you for that. A lot less, and more _gently. _How would you like it if someone grabbed _you _down _here_ and squeezed that hard?" Kiri kindly demonstrated, a wicked gleam in his eyes. Kaze winced, pried Kiri's hand loose, and decided to do as he was told. "Now, since this is _Lisa _we're talking about, you'll have plenty of room to work... you're lucky you have big hands, or you might not be able to do this and you'd have to use her butt instead. What is that girl, an E-cup? So..."

Kaze let out what sounded like some sort of strangled cry, removed his hand from Kiri's chest, and covered his face. Kiri opened his mouth to scold, then fell silent as he saw the blood trickling from between the thick tan fingers.

"I'll go get a tissue," Kumo said softly, giving Kaze a look of worry as he stood up and walked towards the powder room (as this is a Japanese house, the tub and toilet are in separate rooms).

Overcoming the initial shock, Kiri burst out laughing. "Bwahahahah! And you say I'M a pervert! At least I can talk about stuff without getting horny! Looks like someone's been doin' some fantasizing in his free time!"

"Shut up," Kaze said through gritted teeth, taking a tissue from Kumo, who had returned with the entire box.

"At any rate, since using your hands is a lot simpler than using your tongue, you'll be fine with just that. Speaking from experience, it's probably better to leave things like hand service alone for your first few times, unless you wanna incorporate that permanently into your foreplay routine..."

Kaze made another muffled sound and dove for a second tissue.

"I also seriously doubt that you need coaching on sex itself, and besides, there's no way in hell I'm letting you do that to me. Or to Kumo-chan, for that matter. We took an oath, and we're keeping it. Besides, he is the one wearing my ring." Unbelievably, Kiri was just as matter-of-fact and candid about this as he was about everything else. "Most people do well enough on their own intuition, or so I'm told. And about what they say, 'the first time always hurts'--old wives' tale. It's different for everyone. Just be careful, and you'll do fine."

Kumo sighed and gave Kaze yet another tissue.

---

"Do you think he'll be alright?"

Kiri looked up at his little brother. He'd thought that Kumo had seemed distant for the past few minutes, and what he was doing had always worked before at bringing the little daydreamer back down to earth. "Of course he will. He has everything he needs, both in food and lessons from yours truly. He'll do fine. Besides, she really does care for him. It's time they figured out what shacking up is supposed to mean, cause it ain't what they've been doing."

"You're probably right," Kumo said with a shrug, then sighed in mixed relaxation and pleasure as Kiri went back to kissing his lower belly.

---

It seemed to Kaze that he'd just set the plate of food on the table when the door creaked open and Lisa staggered in, looking half-dead.

"Sit down," he told her softly, more than a little concerned at her condition. Dumping her coat on the floor, she did, flopping into the chair at the dinner table and staring in some surprise at the meal there.

"What...?"

"Eat it," Kaze chided, in the middle of collecting the discarded coat. "You need something good for once." He went back to putting it away, but not before he caught the look she shot at him--one so filled with gratitude, it was almost painful.

There was relative silence as Lisa started in on the pescatore. As Kaze watched over his shoulder, she seemed to revive a little. "This is good," she said softly, her eyebrows raising. As if remembering something, she turned to him, looking anxious. "Did you--?"

"I'm taken care of," Kaze told her firmly. "Worry about yourself for once, milady Mother."

Lisa smiled, submitting to the gentle reprimand.

"Tomorrow's dinner is also taken care of. ...You need to rest."

Lisa smiled a little more, giving him a tiny nod.

While his charge ate, Kaze wondered what else he could do for her. After all, she'd been working all day, and what had he done? Spent three hours making out with Kiri, then two more hours grocery shopping. And a lot more hours just sitting on his butt doing nothing, as usual.

Come to think of it, maybe there was something he could do. When Aura'd had long days hiking, shooting, or hunting, she'd complained continuously until she could manage to get her feet into water. During their long journeys together, Kumo had adored the hot springs they'd found on the way (Kaze remembered the sight of his best friend's soft slim body glistening with droplets of water and the way he'd moaned softly in gratitude upon immersing himself in the hot water, then banished it with a firm shake of his head and a shudder). Surely Lisa, too, would appreciate a warm bath.

Kaze slipped through her room and into her bathroom, then turned on the water, almost as hot as it could go. Since Lisa was eating, she probably wouldn't finish as soon as the tub was full; this would ensure that the water would still be warm when she came in. Sure enough, it was several minutes before she was done; Kaze hovered between the bathroom and the apartment's main room until she'd finished.

Once she had, Kaze gently steered her towards the bath. Her reaction was even more enthusiastic than he'd thought it would be--she squeaked, hugged him, ran into the room, and closed the door.

With a small smile (it was working, after all), Kaze retrieved the dishes, left them in the sink in order to soak, and realized that he had nothing else to do to keep his mind occupied. After a few awkward moments, he roamed back into Lisa's room and sat down on the bed, facing towards the "living room". It didn't take long to realize that this was not the best of ideas. He couldn't see what Lisa was doing, but he could hear, and hearing was almost worse than seeing because it left the Kiri-like side of his brain to picture exactly what was going on. Blushing furiously and becoming aware that his jeans were starting to seem uncomfortable again, Kaze did his best to sit still and stop thinking bad thoughts. His attempts at the former were much more successful than those at the latter.

Finally, Kaze heard the bathwater beginning to drain, and sighed in relief. It caught him completely off guard when he heard the firmly closed door creak open.

"Kaze..." Unable to help himself, he looked. Lisa, wearing nothing but a towel and a tired smile, was standing in the doorframe. Wondering who had control of his body, he went to her. "Thank you."

Still unable to help it, Kaze stared at her. He couldn't look away. One analytical, rational part of his mind shook its head at him, thinking, _Kiri would be proud of you right now. _"Lisa... I... I..."

"What is it?" She was so blissfully unaware, it was almost sad. "Kaze...?"

"I... I..." Unable to say it, he impulsively leaned down and captured her lips with his own.

The kiss was long and very passionate. Only the sound of thick fabric hitting the floor brought Kaze back to reality; when they came up for air, he realized to his outward embarrassment and inward glee that Lisa had dropped her towel.

His eyes flicked briefly over the length of her body, then he had to look away. Idly wondering what had happened to his shirt, which he certainly wasn't wearing anymore, he realized that it had to be painfully obvious to her what he wanted. After all, he hadn't been the only one staring. If she had any common sense, she would back out now--he was no longer capable of stopping on his own...

Amazingly, she pulled him back down and kissed him again.

Before he knew what was happening, they had collapsed against her bed.

And he saw in her eyes that she loved him.

---

In the darkness and the silence, Kaze was finally at peace.

No more wondering, no more anxiety, no more being afraid of the answer. He had one, and it was the best answer he could ever have gotten.

Lisa, still entwined with him, shifted, sighed, and resettled. She was asleep, her cheek pressed against his chest, her arms still tightly fitted around him. Kaze's suspicions and Kiri's remarks had been true. She loved him. She wanted him. Just as much as he loved and wanted her.

Before he asked her his other, never-spoken question, he would try to be her lover for a while. It would do her a world of good to come home to a warm bed and someone else's deep affection. And besides... (he smiled to himself as he thought it) he doubted he'd ever need to sleep on the couch again.

Still half-smiling, he relinquished consciousness.

-owari-


	9. Shortcake

Shortcake

**DISCLAIMER: **Don't own FF:U, but I want to borrow Kumo for a while. Just to cuddle for a little bit... he's so damn cute...

**Genre: **Romance. Very fluffy, somewhat amusing romance.

**Rating: **T for a little "friendly" fooling around (in other words, a little bit of non-graphic sex)...

**Warning: **Main pairing is incestual shonen-ai. If you don't like, get out of here now. None of this reading and then flaming crap. My muses will kick the crap out of you if you do that. (Envy: -laughs evilly and cracks knuckles-)

**Pairings: **Kiri/Kumo with some light implications of various other pairings, i.e. Kaze/Lisa, Clear/Ai, etc.

---

Yawning and stretching, Kiri Madoushi ambled down the stairs and wandered through the empty rooms of the house.

It was summer, and since the midgets were on summer vacation, everyone--all of them--were camped out at Mary and Joe's off-season residence. It was a nice break from the cramped, tiny studio apartment that Kiri shared with his little brother, Kumo. Especially at times like this, when everybody else was off doing various errands and such. It was so spacious when nobody was around... traipsing through the living room, Kiri smiled, stretched, and took a few dancing steps forward. Having been raised in a place where he could go off almost any time to the open fields to play or practice or get a few minutes of simple solitude, Kiri found that he hated the bustle of Sadogashima's city with a passion. The breathing room was a welcome respite.

Especially because it was just the two of them.

Kumo was in the kitchen now; turning the corner, Kiri caught sight of him. He was standing at the counter, measuring what looked like flour into a cup with a silver mixing bowl in front of him. He'd pinned the sleeves of his white swordsman's shirt up, and over his own clothes, he was wearing a salmon-pink apron. Embroidered on the front pocket were a chibi'd cat's face and paw print, and when he'd gotten it, Mary had stitched the kanji for his name next to the edge of the fabric.

"Whatcha doin'?" Kiri asked coyly, padding into the kitchen to stand behind his brother, peeking over his shoulder.

"Cooking," Kumo replied pointedly, looking back over his shoulder with a gentle smile.

"Yeah, I noticed," Kiri retorted, his voice shot through with dry humor. "Cooking what?"

"Stuff," was Kumo's nebulous answer.

"That's nice." Kiri was already looking over the ingredients Kumo had gotten out. Sugar, the flour, butter, eggs, salt, strawberries, and peaches. Peeking at the recipe that lay ignored on top of the egg carton, Kiri winced. "Shortcake, huh? The dessert from hell."

"Don't be mean," Kumo scolded, swatting at Kiri without looking.

The redhead made a face at his little brother's back. "I'm serious. It's crazy-hard to make. I have no idea how you manage with it. Gawd. Just one of your many weird skills."

"Don't call them weird skills, Niisama. You know you get a lot of enjoyment out of some of them." Kumo's voice was light and teasing.

"True." Grinning, Kiri put his arms around Kumo's waist and softly kissed the nape of his neck, letting his touch linger.

"Let go, you horny idiot," Kumo scolded, planting an elbow in Kiri's hip. "I need to finish mixing the batter, then put it in the oven. No distractions."

"Who's horny?" Kiri asked, poking Kumo in the back. "As you should've noticed, I'm not. Yet."

"Key word," Kumo said wryly. He elbowed his brother a second time. "And before you try it, don't even think of touching my butt. I'm busy."

"I wasn't," Kiri protested, letting his hand fall to his side and pouting. "Jeez." Chastised, he ranged away from his brother and leaned back against a cabinet. "How'd you manage to get so good at cooking, anyway? I swear, you stole my natural ability to do anything with food."

_"I _practiced," Kumo pointed out. _"I _helped Mom and Dad make dinner. You never bothered."

"Whatever." Kiri rolled his eyes, then laughed. "Remember? You were so little, you had to use a footstool to get close enough to the oven and broilers."

Kumo giggled, dumping the flour and sugar into the bowl with the butter already in it. "Yeah, I always used to worry that I'd fall off."

"You did once. You broke your wrist."

Wincing, the white-haired chef smiled ruefully. "Don't I know it. I'm glad you heard me. If I hadn't gotten to the healer so quickly, I might've been another week waiting for it to mend..."

"You used to be such a klutz when we were kids. I think that was probably why the 'rents always told me to watch you. They were most likely afraid that as soon as you got out of our sight, you'd fall down and break something really important."

"I'm not a klutz _anymore," _Kumo said pointedly, face flaming. He deftly picked up the eggs, cracked them, and let the yolks and whites spill into the mixing bowl. "So stop picking on m--ow..."

Kiri stood and walked quickly to his brother's side. "Dear Gaedrian, what did you do to yourself _this _time?" Kumo was staring at a bright bead of blood on his fingertip with a despairing expression; it seemed he'd pricked it on the jagged edge of an eggshell. "Throw those things out, and give it here." Obediently, Kumo dropped the shells into the wastebasket at the edge of the counter and offered the afflicted hand to his brother.

Kiri sighed and raised Kumo's finger to his lips, gently licking off the blood. "You little moron," he said softly, meeting Kumo's vulnerable jadeine eyes. "Where would you be without me around?" Not waiting for an answer, he slipped the still-bleeding fingertip inside his mouth, clearing off the fresh blood that escaped the cut.

After a few seconds, Kiri let go of his brother's hand, shaking his head with an affectionate smile. "You're such an idiot sometimes, you know that?"

Kumo sighed and leaned against Kiri's chest, snuggling briefly against him. "Unn."

"Finish up now, mmmkay?" Kiri said softly, an unusually gentle smile on his face.

"Unn. Kansha suru." Giving his brother his sweetest, most innocent look, he returned to his cooking, a tiny smile gracing his lips.

Kiri watched in silence as Kumo kept working, quietly admiring his baby brother's expertise. There was the ease of a true chef in the way Kumo gently spun the bowl as he mixed in order to reach everything, in his grip of the wooden spoon. All the same, Kiri noticed the sharp focus in Kumo's beautiful eyes; they were trained on the bowl, in the same perfect concentration he had while doing the other things he was serious about. The smile had faded, and in its place was a little frown. Kiri could see how Kumo had been able to master cooking with such ease--unlike his brother, Kumo had a deep well of patience, and the ability to buckle down on things other than swordsmanship. Sometimes, Kiri had to admit to himself that it was probably just sheer tenacity alone that had gotten him through his training with the Maken... otherwise, he just got frustrated and ended up destroying whatever it was he was trying to work with.

"You know, when you're done here and everybody gets back, we should go outside and spar for a little bit," Kiri suggested. "We haven't done that for a while."

"That's a good idea," Kumo commented in what most would've taken for absence of mind. Kiri know that he'd heard, though, and smiled.

At last, Kumo poured the shortcake batter into the pan, sliding it into the already heated oven and closing the door.

"Dibs on the spoon!" Kiri said, grinning as he snatched it out of his brother's hands.

"You are such a child," Kumo laughed as Kiri licked traces of batter off the wooden utensil.

"Oh, like you're one to talk? ...You wanna share?"

"Fork it over." Pulling off the apron, Kumo wrested the spoon out of Kiri's grip. Passing it back and forth, they cleaned it within a matter of minutes.

Tossing spoon into the sink, Kiri smirked. "You've got batter on your cheek." Not even giving Kumo the time to squeak in embarrassment, he leaned forward and licked the tiny smudge off.

"Good," Kumo said softly. "Now..."

Kiri gave him a wicked look and cut him off with a kiss, slipping his arms about his brother's slender frame.

With a little sigh, Kumo yielded, knowing it was hopeless to resist. Kiri always got what he wanted when it came to these things. He had to protest, however, when his brother slipped off his soft fabric choker and pressed his lips to the vulnerable spot at the side of his throat. "H-hey...! Cut that out! Those don't go away fast enough, you know!"

Kiri made a soft, muted noise and waved a hand in the air, like "who cares"?

"Hey...!"

Coming up for air, Kiri came nose-to-nose with his brother, quirking an eyebrow. "You shouldn't complain, silly. You and I both know you love it." With kisses and short steps, Kiri coaxed Kumo into the living room, heading for the sofa. Bending the little chef back, Kiri slipped off his brother's white shirt, then ran one hand up his smooth body, from his navel to his collarbones. Kumo shuddered, giving a little whimper of pleasure.

Kiri smiled darkly, and pressed his brother's trembling body to the plush cushions, purring velvetine promises all the way.

---

The sharp tone of the timer's buzzer snapped Kumo back into wakefulness. He was still entwined with Kiri on the sofa, having fallen asleep there with him after their bout of exceptionally strenuous lovemaking. For a few moments, he was disoriented, wondering why the timer was going off, but as it buzzed a second time, he remembered.

"Niisama, get off," he murmured, nudging Kiri. "I have to go take the shortcake out of the oven..."

_"Mmmmph," _Kiri protested, tightening his grip on his brother's waist.

"If it burns, you're not going to get any," Kumo pointed out, trying to fidget out of Kiri's hold.

Reluctantly, the redhead let go, grumbling beneath his breath.

Still mourning the loss of his nap, Kiri watched as Kumo ran back to the kitchen, pulling clothes on all the way. The little idiot. Still, that was why he found his brother so lovable--his devotion to the things that mattered to him.

Even if he himself had to take a backseat to the rest of Kumo's hobbies, it was still sweet to watch. Most of the time.

Just as Kiri had gotten his own clothes back on, the door creaked open, and everyone else spilled inside the house.

If Kaze hadn't been guiding her, Lisa would've tripped over something for sure--she had that blissfully happy look on her face, the reason for which was obvious: the pair's intertwined hands. Just one touch from the tall, usually antisocial gunner was enough to send her rational mind to la-la land. Kiri could remember having gone through the same period with Kumo, but then, that'd been years ago. He personally thought of it as Newlywed Syndrome. Another side effect of it was that the pair involved usually couldn't keep their hands off each other in other ways, but with Kaze and Lisa, that remained to be seen.

Mary and Joe Hayakawa were both loaded down with bags of groceries; apparently, they'd been shopping, if nothing else. Their twin children, Ai and Yu, were busy chattering with their friend Clear. Kiri looked on, amused; he wondered if he was the only one who'd found Ai's mild crush on the blue-haired boy as obvious as the fact that his shirt was red. If he wasn't, Yu was doing a good job of pretending he knew nothing about it. Heh. Oh well. Everyone would find out soon enough, anyway.

Also talking animatedly to each other, Kaze's little sister Aura and the former Guide Fabula walked in, closing the door behind them. As soon as she'd taken three steps into the house, Fabula stopped dead. "I smell peach shortcake." With only that as warning, she ran into the kitchen, where Kumo was putting the finishing touches on his creation, and hugged him. "I love you, you know that?"

"Hey," Aura complained from the doorframe, where she was still taking off her black ankle boots. No matter how insulted, she sounded, she wasn't fooling anyone. The crooked smile gave her away instantly.

"Not _that _way," came the mild comment from the kitchen. "You and I both know that _that _happens to be reserved for other people." They both laughed. Kiri shook his head. Sometimes he just had to wonder about those two...

"Niisama, come on in here and help," Kumo called.

"Yeah, yeah." Standing, Kiri sauntered into the kitchen, where everyone was trying to help unload groceries at once.

Crowded. Noisy. All in all, he preferred the solitude of the house when no one was around.

But still. Like his brother's cooking, it was something you could appreciate.

-fin-


	10. Instant Insanity: Just Add Saké!

Instant Insanity: Just Add Saké!

**DISLCAIMER:** This fanfiction was co-planned by Thalia the Tiger when both she and I were suffering from major sleep deprivation on our orchestra's road trip to New York City. Therefore, much of the content is, as the title claims, insane. Neither of us lays any claim to FF:U, but the psychotic plotline is all ours.

**Genre: **Pure, insane comedy.

**Rating: **T for blatant abuse--I mean _use _of alcohol, suggestive themes, and some underage drinking

**Warning: **If you do not want to see your favorite characters drunk and silly, turn back now.

**Pairings: **Implied Heartshipping, Cloudshipping, Frogshipping, etc. All my usual stuff.

_March 29, 2005_

_20:30 military time_

Kiri walked into the nearly-empty Square-Enix cafeteria, giving Bolbol, who was polishing the bar counter, a mocking salute, to see Miles sitting on one of the stools, a half-empty bottle of saké in one hand and a small glass of the substance in the other.

"Whatcha doin'?" he wanted to know, sitting down on the stool to her left.

"The cast party was supposed to be today, but they're all LATE," the purple-haired woman fumed, boring holes in the opposite wall with her laser-beam evil glare. "So I just had to start without em!"

"Okay..." Kiri shrugged and looked around. "I never heard about any cast party."

"I told Cid to tell everybody about it. He said 'fine' and then went back to his damn planning!" Miles took a hearty swig, draining her little saucer and slamming it down on the table. "Why won't he ever put those mechanized toys down and take a look at me!"

Kiri thought it wise to abstain from commenting.

Miles held out the bottle of saké to him, commanding him, "Drink some booze!"

The red-haired swordsman held up his hands. "I don't drink."

"Why not!"

"I'm only nineteen. That's underage."

"That never stopped you from doing OTHER things!"

Kiri rolled his eyes. "...And I don't drink because I don't like the person I turn into when I do."

"Sucks to be you." Miles refilled her glass and took another swig, draining it again. "Why don't you make some use of yourself and go get everybody else!"

_20:37 military time_

"A cast party?"

Cid scratched his head.

"I never heard anything about a cast party."

Kiri shrugged. "Well, she said she told you about it. Anyway, you guys do want to come, right?"

Knave whistled and saluted, causing the rest of the Comodeen to do the same. "Of course! It's important to relax and recuperate from all your hard work sometimes. We the Comodeen shall do our best in this endeavor!"

Cid and Lisa edged slightly away from Knave.

"Whatever. You're coming, right?"

"What are we doing?" Lisa wanted to know.

"From the way Miles is going on, trying to drink each other under the table. How should I know? Just go, why don't you. I don't want blowdarts in my butt because I couldn't drag anybody in."

Sighing slightly, Lisa shook her head at him and smiled. "Well... it has been a lot of work trying to get all the productions finished with. And of course, ADV is releasing the boxed set soon, so we'll be sent back to work soon enough. I suppose a _little _bit of fun won't hurt..."

"Hai, hai," Kiri replied. "Where the hell is Kaze? I suppose I'd better drag his granite ass on down to the cafeteria, too."

"I think I saw him down in the lobby a little while ago..."

_20:45 military time_

"Cast party?"

"Forget it," Aura replied flatly, rolling her eyes. "It'll just be stupid. Everyone's going to get drunk and stoned, just like always. And I'm eighteen--I can't drink anyway. So there's no point in going... right, Kaze-niisan?"

Kaze stood, shoving his long horsetail out behind him. "Why not."

Aura stared at him. "You _cannot _mean that. Kaze-niisan! I was _seriously _under the impression that you had more sense in your head than to just go get mindlessly drunk! What about setting a good example for _me?"_

"You're eighteen, and come on, it's more like _you've _been setting a good example for _him," _Kiri pointed out. "Even if you're not gonna drink, you could still come. We're gonna need bouncers."

"No means no," she said firmly, glaring. "Just please tell me that _they _aren't invited."

"No small children, evil necromancers, slutty flower ladies, or dumbass bad-guy stooges are coming," the red-haired swordsman assured her. "That's what _I'm _here for. I'm certainly not going to be downing the saké with the rest of em. If they come, I throw them out."

"And Kumo?"

Kiri shuddered. "Dear God, no. My parents and I have kept him away from alcohol _this _long, and that's certainly not going to stop now. He's only sixteen!"

Aura gave him a sidelong look. "Well, you seem to think that sixteen is old enough for him to do _other _stuff."

"Why can't anyone fricking keep their noses out of my sex life?" Kiri demanded, hands twitching spasmodically.

"Because you two are all over each other, everywhere," Aura told him. "If you don't want us knowing, then you shouldn't advertise yourselves so much."

"I don't care about people _knowing, _it's just how you lot can't shut up about it... if you want to stay and babysit the midgets, that's fine with me, but it's your loss." The redhead turned to Kaze, pointedly ignoring the tall gunner's sister. "Oei, Rock-boy! Let's get going, already!"

_21:13 military time_

The party was well under way, and Kiri was beginning to regret the fact that he hadn't decided to join Aura in keeping Ai, Yu, Lou, Clear, Fungo, and Touya company.

Even in almost half an hour, everyone was getting far past "tipsy" into "completely drunk" very, very rapidly.

Knave and some other members of the Comodeen had dug up an old karaoke machine out of some old storage room, and were now belting out their favorite songs at the top of their lungs. Knave's singing in particular sounded like a dying animal.

Cid, sitting next to Miles at the bar, had out what looked vaguely like a book of blueprints and was chattering happily to her about them at approximately a thousand miles an hour. Miles, who until Cid had started babbling, had been loud and raucous as ever, was now uncharacteristically quiet and watching the enthusiastic blonde with what could've been solemnity, if not for the heavy drunken blush that spread across her face.

Kaze and Lisa, as well as a few Comodeen members who weren't "singing" with Knave, had also parked at the bar. Before Cid had lost it completely, he and Lisa had been engaged in conversation; but somewhere around nine o'clock they'd both trailed off and chosen different things to do.

Lisa, for example, was now acting unusually giddy, giggling between small sips of saké and glancing very obviously in Kaze's direction. Where she thought she was getting, Kiri had no idea--Kaze seemed just as self-absorbed as ever, almost _more _sothan Kiri'd ever seen him before.

Okay, so usually Kaze seemed pretty oblivious to the world around him, but Kiri knew that he _did _take notice of some things. It was hard to catch, but he did watch what was going on in the immediate area, whether or not he was paying specific attention. You could see his cerulean gaze drifting around from behind his heavy bangs.

Drunk (he had to be, by now), things weren't much different, except for the fact that Kaze was now totally intent on the little saké glass in front of him. There was a thick red blush across his tanned skin, and while he was just as silent as ever, Kiri could've sworn that he'd paused once in his alcohol binge to remark that "I like pie".

For the millionth time in his life, Kiri wished that he showed a different side of himself when alcohol got into his own system, or that he could at least hold his liquor a little better. The one time he had gotten drunk in his life, it'd just taken one glass of saké to knock all vestiges of sobriety out of his system. And then, he'd destroyed half the bar in a rage when some other random customer had "accidentally" (or so they'd later claimed) brushed a hand across Kumo's... well... the point was, Kiri was a violent drunk, it didn't take very much to _make _him drunk, and so he couldn't drink. It made him feel very left out at parties like these.

"Yo!"

Turning, Kiri nodded. "Oh. Hey."

Dolwa (still wearing his usual clean-pressed gray suit and calm smile) and Fabula (in a t-shirt with "DIVA" written in bold print across the bust, her silver hair pinned up into a clip) had just arrived.

"I take it that no one will mind if we join in?" the tall agent asked cheerfully.

"Nope. Really, I doubt anyone will _notice _if you join in. It's that bad already." Kiri shook his head at the lot of his partying friends. Tilting his head to the side curiously, he turned to Fabula. "I thought you would be staying with Aura, though..."

Stretching, she gave him a sidelong look. _"Me? _Stay with _that _slave-driving control freak a minute longer?"

"Yeah, I hear that's what _she _says about _you," _Kiri joked. "Sick of being on the bottom?"

_"Hell _yes! I need breathing room. That girl is altogether far too demanding."

"Well, you two kinda _did _choose to decide your nightly dominance by playing rock-paper-scissors. It's not my fault if you have an unprecedented losing streak." Kiri watched, amused, as Dolwa sat down on an empty bar stool and immediately started on a tall glass of wine.

Fabula smacked his shoulder. "Hey. I keep _telling _you, she's cheating somehow. And once I find out _how _she's doing it, she's in for a little payback. ...Okay, quite a _lot _of payback."

"You're insane, have I ever told you that?"

"Only about once a day." Both of them laughed. "Well, have fun guarding the doors. If Oscha tries to get in here, sock him one for me." Tossing a crooked smile in the swordsman's direction, the Guide headed down into the veritable melee, a cocky saunter in the roll of her hips as she walked.

Over at the counter, Dolwa turned to the others and began happily, "Anyone want to start a drinking contest?"

Kiri rolled his eyes and turned back towards the doors.

It wasn't long before entertainment came along.

Nallorn and Gaedrian alone knew what in the world had possessed them to come together, but Gaudium lords Fungus, Pist, and Herba were jostling down the hall, arguing to each other in pitched voices.

Kiri grinned widely. Maybe he'd get to have a little fun for the evening after all.

"Ahhhh, Madoushi-chaaan," Herba caroled, waving a hand at him. Kiri twitched. "The cast party's over here, then?"

_If Cid didn't tell anybody about it when Miles told him, then how in the world do _they _know about it? _Kiri wondered to himself. Out loud, he said, "Sorry, you guys weren't on the guest list."

Herba put on a sulky look, seeming quite eerily like Ai for a moment. "You let Sorujatshi-chan in!" she protested, pointing, the poisonous purple lacquer on her nail glittering in the hallway light.

"Uh, _dude." _Kiri stared at her. "Two words: 'Not evil'. Two more words: 'Lisa's buddy'. That clear it up for you?"

As if on cue, a snatch of Lisa's drunken drawl wound through the cacophony behind them: "Whyyyyy do you have to be like thaaaaaat, Dolu-kuuuun?"

Kiri was sorely tempted to look over his shoulder and see what in all that was holy she was doing, but didn't.

"Mouuu, not fair," Fungus and Herba sulked as one, then gave each other disturbed looks.

"Look, we've already covered that you're not invited, so just run along and do whatever it is that bad guys do in their spare time. Mmmm'k?"

As all three of them swelled indignantly and began to protest, Kiri let a slow smirk crawl over his face and held up his left hand, stretching and cracking the joints, as he slid his right to the hilt of his Maken. "Or do I have to convince you to leave?"

"I am the immortal Fungus! You can't scare me!" the pompous mushroom general declared, puffing out his chest and blowing his pipe so hard it whistled.

Kiri wrinkled his nose. "Yes, and we _allllllll _know how much funguses love fire. Get out, or be burninated." He turned a jaundiced glare on Herba. "And that goes for you too."

"Mouu, Madoushi-chan is so cruel…" Herba sulked, but she went off, followed by a wilted Fungus. Kiri watched them as they went, then turned back to Pist and folded his arms, raising one eyebrow.

"Not even all your fire magic could evaporate me," Pist bragged. "As commander of the water, I have the advantage over you!"

Kiri smirked evilly. "Oh, _really?"_

Pist blinked at him.

"I already gave you the chance to go away like a nice little fishy. You didn't. You leave me no choice, then, dearest _Pist." _As Pist started to bluster into his defense, Kiri tuned him out and drew a Mist bottle from his belt.

Noticing it, Pist broke off and went pale. "Oh, no. _No. _Not this again, _no—"_

Paying him no mind at all, Kiri popped the cap off and let out a long sigh of crimson haze, then smiled as Pist's protests grew squeaky and trails of his liquid being started to seep into the now-empty bottle.

Kiri carefully replaced the cap.

"LET ME OUT!" Pist squeaked from within the bottle's confines.

"What _shall _we do with this now, hmmmm?" Kiri wondered aloud, sounding highly amused.

"LET ME **OUT!" **Pist squeaked even louder.

"I think we'll find a nice place to put you until you've learned your lesson."

"NOOOO! Let me OUT!"

Kiri sauntered back into the room, heading behind the bar and into the kitchen. "I think the fridge would be a nice hiding place."

"The FRIDGE? NOOOOO! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!"

"This should do until tomorrow. Or at least until I remember you're there." Kiri opened the freezer door, then paused and set one long finger to his lips, staring up at the ceiling. "Or maybe when I do remember, I'll just think the quiet is so nice that I _won't _let you out."

Tuning out Pist's squeaked obscenities, Kiri deposited the bottle in the side holders along the freezer door, then closed it and opened the fridge beneath it, picking up a cherry Coke and then closing it, sauntering away as he popped open the tab. It always made him feel so accomplished, having done a good deed.

By the time he got back to the party room, Knave was back onstage again, caterwauling what had to be his worst yet to "I'm a Barbie Girl". Dolwa's drinking contest had progressed; though the agent still looked completely sober, Miles and Cid were both definitely groggy, and Kaze had fallen asleep where he sat. So had Lisa. She had one arm through Kaze's, the other through Dolwa's, and her cheek glued to the bar counter, snoring gently. Kiri shook his head at them. It was funny in a rather twisted way and yet still sad that Dolwa got that much enjoyment out of drinking other people under the table.

"Niisama?"

Kiri turned at the familiar voice. While he'd been dealing with Pist, his little brother had wandered in.

"Kumo-chan, what in the world are you doing here?"

Kumo smiled and shrugged. "It just sounded like everyone was having so much fun… I couldn't help but come here to watch."

Too late, Kiri noticed the glass of saké in his brother's hand. "AAUGH! NO! KUMO, PUT THAT DOWN—"

But paying scant attention to his brother's yell with all the noise, Kumo had already downed the entire thing in one go.

Kiri stared at him, horrified. _The reason our entire family has absolutely zero tolerance to alcohol, _he thought numbly, _is because of the traces of royal blood in our veins—that sensitivity to Mist and the power it brings, that connection with Doukyou, opens us up too quickly to any kind of toxin in our system! And Kumo's power is the strongest that's surfaced in our clan for centuries! As the Unlimited and as this age's Makenshi, as the only one qualified to wear that iron circlet on his head, Kumo won't be able to stand that stuff for _half _as long as I can, and **just one glass** is enough to make me drunk as hell!_

_Ohgodno. Oh shit. Ohshitohshitohshit, this is BAD… _Kiri thought helplessly, staring poleaxed as Kumo let his head drop a little, letting his bangs spill over his face as his cheeks went pink.

At that moment, a weird choking sound from Knave proved enough of a distraction to divert Kiri's attention.

Fabula, standing at the front of the crowd, had clonked him in the head with a chakram, and he was lying on the floor, out for the count. "You are _defiling _everything you sing," she accused in a voice angry and loud enough to make Kiri realize that she was more than half drunk, too. "Get a damn LIFE, why don't you?"

Beside Kiri, Kumo (who had also watched this display) started to giggle helplessly. The redhead swung back to his brother, shocked. Kumo hadn't giggled since he was ten years old, for heavensakes!

"That's just so… It's so…" he tried to say, in between bursts of helpless laughter, but couldn't quite seem to get out what it was. Eventually, the frantic laughter started to ebb, letting Kumo take deep breaths. _Too _deep, Kiri realized—he was almost hyperventilating. "It's so… Niisama…"

Kiri recognized that tone of voice. Unable to help it, he edged back.

Kumo swung up to him with huge, tearful eyes, all traces of the hysteria he'd been attacked by absolutely _gone. _"Niisama, why… why… why don't you love meee?"

Kiri actually _felt _his hackles rise, as he grabbed his brother's shoulders and started to steer him forcefully towards the door. "Okay, that's it, no more alcohol for you. Let's go, out already." Kumo was resisting, and it was proving surprisingly hard to herd the young swordsman where Kiri wanted him to go.

Another pair of hands was suddenly at Kumo's back, propelling him forward. Kiri turned and gave Fabula a slightly suspicious look. "I thought you were drunk."

She smirked at him. "Instant sobriety is one of the perks of my job."

"Must be nice."

"Sure is. Now let's get this kid off to his room before he _really _starts causing a scene."

---

_March 30, 2005_

_10:45 military time_

Lisa groaned. "Please, _please _don't move so loudly," she begged as Ai, Yu, and Touya headed around the sick bay, passing out wet cloths and mugs of coffee.

Ai gave her a jaundiced glare. "If you don't like it, then you shouldn't have drank so much last night!" she snapped, not even blinking when Lisa winced. Turning around, she fixed Touya with her evilest evil eye. "Hurry it up, Satomi!"

"Yes, ma'am." Sighing, Touya handed her a cloth, which she thrust out towards Lisa. Considering that job done, Ai marched over to the next bed, where Miles sat clutching her head and groaning.

Pretty much the entire Comodeen was wiped out like that. Knave was just a quivering lump under the blankets of his bed; Cid was sitting up in his, staring at his hands and sometimes making motions with them as if trying to get himself to comprehend what had happened last night—judging by the look of complete and total lack of understanding on his face, he wasn't going to get anywhere doing that.

Fabula's "instant sobriety" trick had done her well; she was downstairs with Aura and Dolwa, who was also perfectly fine, which made no sense at all as he'd probably drunk as much liquor as Miles over the course of the night. Kiri shook his head over it—and the many groaning Comodeen members—before turning to Kaze, who sat in his customary position against the wall.

"What about you?" he asked.

Kaze just gave him a blank look.

"How's your hangover coming?"

Kaze shook his head, his brow tightening in confusion. "…What?"

Kiri rolled his eyes. "You drank yourself absolutely silly last night, and you kept saying how much you liked pie. Lisa was all over you. And you were returning the favor." He looked the gunman up and down. "Don't you remember _anything _about last night?"

Kaze just shook his head no. Throwing his hands up at the taciturn brunet, Kiri turned back towards his own personal patient, who was bent over a basin on the other side of his bed.

As Kumo straightened up, Kiri very carefully eased him back into the sheets, pure pity easing over his angular features. Kumo's face was flushed and his skin was sweat-slick; he winced at any loud noise or bright light, and too much movement caused him to be violently sick.

Turning his fevered gaze on his brother, Kumo moaned. "What's happening to me?"

Kiri sighed, laying his hand patiently on his brother's sheets. "It's called a hangover, and it happens to most people when they get drunk," he informed the invalid swordsman. "They suck, but if you're going to keep drinking, you'll have to get used to them."

Kumo let out another moan, rolled onto his side, and buried his face in his brother's belly. _"Never again."_

"That's good." Kiri ran his hand up and down over Kumo's hair as soothingly as he could. "Well, you've learned your lesson the hard way, but you've learned it. No matter how good it seems at the time, drinking is just plain bad news for our family."

"At least _some _people have sense," Ai commented, hoisting a stack of dry towels up over her head and directing her slave labor (i.e., Yu and Touya) towards another section of beds.

_If only you knew, _Kiri thought wryly, but decided to hold his tongue.

After all, he'd rather keep his own drunken insanities to himself at the moment.

owari :D


	11. Gunsmoke

Gunsmoke

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Final Fantasy: Unlimited. If I did, I'd fricking make Square do the second season, or at the very least make ADV translate all the extras. I just bring life to the FF:U section on FF-Net. So don't sue me plz, kthx.

**Genre: **Angsty drama. As usual. What else do I ever write?

**Rating: **T for blood and swearing.

**Warnings: **FF:U BEFORE SPOILERS UP THE BUTT. If you don't want to be spoiled, then go read Ai no Kareshi's translation on FF:U Worlds before reading the fanfic. If you do want to be spoiled, then go right ahead, nobody's stopping you.

**Pairings: **None. Well, maybe a little hinted Silvershipping—if you squint—but that's all, I swear.

---

Twilight's periwinkle fingers had begun to slide their grip over Windaria's empty plains.

Silence had fallen over the cities, broken only by the solitary blasts of periodic gunshots, echoing from the practice range well away from any inhabited space. It was unusual for someone to be out this late at the end of summer, especially now, when tensions were rising between this world and the strange other place and its threatening citizens.

The girl at the range had been there for hours now, seeking solitude and taking out her frustrations on the hapless pasteboard targets set hundreds of yards away. Knowing that it was best to let her alone, her family and friends still hadn't disturbed her. She would come home in her own time; she always had.

She stood tall and proud against the first traces of sunset in the sky, coolly pumping clip after clip of lead into the board she had decided to pick on today. She was garbed in a clinging black dress with long sleeves and a short skirt; that along with her heeled boots turned her silhouette into an impressive figure, all black torso, slim waistline and angled hips, long legs and the slight curves of her breasts. Her thick dark silver hair was severely pinned into four braids, two of which framed her face—the other two stuck up as though they'd been threaded with stiff wire cables. An iron collar snugly circled her slim throat, and a silver droplet studded with a wine-red stone dangled from her left ear. Her expression was as smooth as if it had been carved from marble, though her lips were pressed firmly together. The only emotion she showed other than gunfire was in the fine-lashed eyes the color of molten lead, set under sharply angled black brows, which were smoldering with a dangerous, steady fury.

She was all of seventeen years old and had been carefully cultivated over the past few years into a killing machine, even more strictly than the trained snipers and gunmages of her people. To incite her pique was to flirt with death; she'd learned to fight down her increasingly volatile temper, releasing her pent-up rage only in safer activities.

Like this one.

Setting her shoulders with a terse exhalation of breath, Aura Hougekiju snapped her revolvers open, letting the twenty-four used shells clink almost musically to the ground amidst the piles of casings already littered there. Silently, methodically, she refilled each round, closing and tightening the guns once more with a crisp shake in order to free the six barrels on each of any remaining traces of Soil or gunpowder that might become jammed and lead to backfire.

Holding her left arm steady at her side, she raised her right, sighting along the barrel with a squint, then fired once again.

---

_"Niichan!"_

_As he turned, surprised, she continued to chase after him doggedly until she'd caught up. "Aura?"_

_"Where do you think you're going? You said you'd spend today with _me, _Niichan!"_

_Anyone else might've seen little or no emotion on the thirteen-year-old boy's face, but she could easily read his discomfort—even anguish—in the tightening of his brow and the slight tug of his lips into a grimace, as well as the darkening of his eyes. "…I have lessons. You knew that."_

_But there was a mad gleam in the little girl's eyes, and she took a sharp step towards him, stomping her foot as she did so. "You _said!"

_The boy sighed a little and edged back. "Aura…"_

_"Kuroki-kun!" Both of them turned; his instructor was calling._

_The boy put a hand on his little sister's cheek, tilting her face up towards his, and gave her a small, pained smile. "…I'll be with you afterwards… wait for me…"_

_She sighed and sulked, but nodded and watched him walk off._

_He was tall for his age, and lean, with long legs and feet of a size that showed that he hadn't quite grown into yet. As he'd started his training, he was dressed in the drab gray and brown of an apprentice gunman, their nebulous colors arranged into tough leather pants and a vest that no bullet could penetrate. His slim frame was contrasted by the bulk of the heavy gold cylinder that consumed his right arm from the elbow down, and had since he was born. His untidy brown hair, which hung straight down to his shoulderblades, had been pulled into an awkward horsetail, held in place by a rubber band that was already starting to slip._

_To his sister, his little imperfections went unnoticed. In her eyes, he was only a little ways from becoming godly; she completely adored him._

_Although he did drive her crazy sometimes, especially with his insistence on attending all of his gunmanship lessons. Really, how many things _did _one have to learn before one was allowed to start shooting? A gun was a gun was a gun, and to her seven-year-old mind there was nothing more to it than that._

_Soil, she knew, was part of it: Her brother had to learn the Soil names, types, and what combinations would suit certain battles. But there really weren't _that _many kinds—only a few variations on each specific color. And that shouldn't take as long as these lessons kept taking him._

_Her memories of him before he'd started training were very vague: The taciturn yet gentle boy with the easy smile. But she remembered enough to know that his teachers had killed that part of him when he was ten years old and they'd first put a gun in his hand._

_It was _ridiculous. _Gunmages usually didn't start their training until they were twelve or thirteen; normal marksmen and snipers even later. And here these people were, working her brother to the bone every day._

_"Maganshi", they called him, and said that one day he would learn to summon creatures._

_Aura didn't know about that, but her opinion of the rest of this stupid training was _very _clear. It was taking her beloved brother away from her, so she hated it with all her heart and soul._

_When he finally came back to her, she marched him off towards the grove of trees that rested to the east of their hometown._

_"Watch!" she commanded, and turned her back on him, grabbing for the lowest branch and hauling herself upwards from there. She'd worked hard at this, and she'd been waiting a few days for the chance to show him the fruits of her labors._

_After she was able to stand in the tree itself, she looked down and saw that instead of doing as she'd commanded, he was sitting against the tree's trunk with a heavy book open on his lap._

_She growled to herself and huffed out an irritated breath. "Oei! Pay attention to **me!"**_

_He gave her one pained glance, but didn't respond. Irritated, she walked back to the trunk and let go of her handholds, sliding down in a half-freefall that made him start and stare at her, alarmed—which had been her intent._

_"That's dangerous."_

_She glared at him. "I don't care! I've been practicing all this for _days, _and you're not even _watching!"

But aside from that, he didn't respond at all, just turned back to his book. She screamed inwardly, then let the angry tangle of emotions inside of her smooth out before she sighed, gave in, and sat down next to him.

_"So what are you reading?"_

_"It's a history… of others like me." He turned a page with his good left hand, smoothing it down before he started to peruse its contents. "One of my teachers gave it to me yesterday." And with that, he was silent again._

_Teachers. So this was to do with his lessons, _again.

Aura couldn't hate them more.

_But this was still her brother, the one she loved more than anything else. And it wasn't like any words she offered could change things. He was what he was, and as long as he had that _thing _on his arm, then he had to learn._

_So she just sat there and looked over his shoulder for the rest of the time they had together that day, watching him read._

---

_Aura stood on the hilltop and waited. Her brother sure was taking his sweet time today—and what a time to do it, too, when every moment they could spend together was a precious and short-lived commodity._

_Tomorrow. Could it really be that soon? Had time, the cruel master over everything, truly flown that quickly? It seemed impossible. Yet, he would be leaving tomorrow._

_Hate swirled through her blood, a dark and ugly writhing within the would-be pure soul of a young girl. She let it run its course, then sighed. She didn't want to seem too angry, considering that this would probably be the last time she saw Kaze for years._

_At last, footsteps. She turned, and almost smiled, but scowled instead as he approached her, a tall presence swathed in black, haunted with the killing knowledge in him._

_"You're _late," _she said pointedly. He sighed._

_"I'm sorry."_

_She rolled her eyes. "Come on, Kaze-niisan… we'd better hurry, I don't think there are too many left." And not allowing him to say anything else, she grabbed him by the hand and hauled him down towards the fence._

_They were lucky—there was still one hot air balloon tethered to the ground, the last of the round. If someone had already claimed it, they would've had to wait at least another hour before they all came back in to get a ride._

_It was one of the few peaceful havens Aura had left. She'd gotten her own guns not long ago, and her teachers were drilling her much harder than any other student—sometimes she just wanted to scream at the injustice of it all. Particularly because over the years, her brother had just kept getting more and more withdrawn; especially with his current instructor's insistence that he learn to close off his emotions when he fought, because so many enemies would just use his heart against him._

_The tiny seed of hatred that had been in her heart since she was a small child had grown, and flowered._

_But as she stood on the tiny wooden platform beneath the heat-swollen canvas, holding on to one of the cords with her other arm through her brother's and the scenery of their homeland swirling beneath her, she could forget, if even for a few moments, what the threat brooding in the future was forcing them to become._

_She could remember that Windaria was a place worth protecting._

_The ride seemed to be over in an eyeblink—that damn Time again, stealing away the precious moments of her life too quickly. And as she watched the workers changing the hot air bladders that kept the balloons up, she turned to the ever-more-taciturn Kaze at her side, staring up at him with a crooked smile._

_"I'm gonna miss you like hell after you leave."_

_Kaze winced. "Aura…"_

_"I know, I know, it's not your choice, it has to be done for the good of our world," she recited, rolling her eyes. "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm not going to see you again for a long time." She sighed, then put her arms around him in a fierce embrace. "It's hard… without my favorite brother around…"_

_"Aura…" He bent down to her, brushed his lips across her forehead, and laid his arm along her shoulders._

_The tears were starting, but she forced herself to be strong. And because she would cry if he held her any longer, she pushed back, searching his face. Though at a glance he seemed impassive, she could see the pain in his eyes._

_"Here—I know." She unclipped her right earring, held it out to him. "Keep this for me until you get back. Something to help you remember… even if they want you to forget."_

_"But, Aura… I can't…"_

_"Oh, just _take _it already." Impatiently, she shoved it into his hand. "You can give it back when we meet again. This way, even when we're apart, I'll still be there. It's important to both of us, isn't it?"_

_As she held the earring in his hand, he nodded, and his fingers closed on it beneath hers._

_"I'll get a piercing gun later so you can put it on then. Okay? For now… let's just get back home, so our parents don't have a complete fit about this whole thing."_

_---_

_This was it._

_She'd been waiting ever since they'd taken him away from her._

_And they'd finally called her out. Helping her reach her goal of being able to assist him, where supposedly he would be out on the front lines in the war._

_"Aura Hakugi."_

_She looked up at her teacher from where she knelt in the customary position before him, her guns on either side of her. "Yes."_

_"It's beyond time for you to take the next step in your training."_

_Her heartbeat started to speed up, but she kept her voice steady. "Yes."_

_"Pepo has already been told of this." Her teacher gestured to the moogle dressed in gray who sat next to the sliding wooden doors, listening intently and rather too quietly; usually he would be up with her, making his usual smartassed commentary on whatever her too-stern teacher had to say. Even if he did get on her nerves, he still made her laugh, something that no one else was able to manage these days. "And from now on, it will be your only objective in training."_

_Aura fought back impatience, and raised an eyebrow. "…What kind of training?" Something inside her was going cold. "This isn't the typical lecture you give your gunwizards when they're about to graduate, I can tell."_

_He gave her a look, and she fell silent. "Most civilians are not permitted to know this, but the enemy is powerful, and our future will be a bleak one unless due actions are taken. Your brother knows this, and it's what he's being taught to perform as well. As a… last resort, shall we say."_

_She stared at him and willed him to get on with it. It wasn't like him to mince words like this, no more than it was like Pepo to actually shut up and let someone talk without incessant interruptions. She didn't like where this was going._

_"Silver Aura, Black Wind, and any moogle. If that's what it comes to, that's what it will be." He looked her over. "It can't be coincidence that your own Soil completes his triad. Tears of the Rainbow is extremely rare, after all—rarer even than your brother's own Endless White." He paused. "From this day forward, you shall be known as Aura Hougekiju."_

_The words hit Aura like a physical blow, leaving her gasping, unwilling to believe._

_"From now on your training will include daily ritual in order to help you purify your Soil, and strengthen it. These lessons are essential to the survival of our world, so I expect you to treat them with all due seriousness—"_

_"So—so that's it, then," she interrupted, her voice shaking dangerously._

_"Aura, be reasonable."_

_She stood, furious to the point of hysteria. "Don't you _get _it, you stupid **bastard!" **He looked at her, perturbed. "Is that all you've been doing until now? Training me to be some kind of _sacrifice? _This is my _life, _don't you get it! I'm not just going to lie down and—"_

_"These lessons are essential," he repeated, "to the survival of Windaria." He turned. "Tomorrow at sunrise. Be here, or be prepared to accept your punishment." And he walked away, leaving her staring incredulously at his back._

_To save Windaria. All right, she could understand that. Up until it became a matter of throwing away the individual lives that gave their world meaning._

_The bastard didn't even care._

_"So we'll throw ourselves into the line of fire, die heroes' deaths, and they'll weep the fakest tears they can at our memorial, then go home to their families and talk of how glad they are that we died." She let out a long, slow hiss of breath. "And they'll think we did it to save their pathetic lives."_

_She growled, low and steady._

_"Bastards."_

---

_Aura looked up from the crystal and into the eyes of the woman who held it._

_"And it was all for nothing anyway," she said slowly, bitterly. "Windaria's gone. Everything's gone. What's the point of having to fight and die if nothing comes of it?"_

_"Your brother is still alive."_

_"And he'll just have to keep fighting Chaos, over and over again," Aura retorted. "Whatever they did to him while he was away, they really fucked him over. How much longer will he be able to keep this up before he loses himself?"_

_No answer._

_"He's already lost himself. Who am I kidding?" She snorted, glared at the ground._

_"But he hasn't lost you."_

_Aura's eyes widened; she looked back up, suddenly unable to breathe._

_"He never will. You'll always be there for him, no matter how long he has to keep fighting." She stood, and walked slowly over to where Aura was. With painstakingly gentle hands, the woman of the crystal reached out and touched the earring Aura still wore, had worn since that day, despite everything. "But these things have passed out of your hands. You can let go now. You can rest now."_

_"Kaze-niisan, and that boy we met… they'll handle this, won't they?" Uncertainty filtered through Aura's voice as she searched the gentle blue-green cat's eyes that held hers._

_A smile. "They carry on the fight in your stead." The woman took her hands, and Aura felt cool waves of relaxation roll over her body, easing the tension from her form. "Neither Kumo nor your brother Kaze will ever forget what you've done for them. And as long as Chaos is there to be defeated, I will tell their story and yours to anyone willing to listen._

_"Your suffering has ended. You won't need to sacrifice anything anymore."_

_For the first time in years, Aura smiled._

_And she closed her eyes._

---

The sunset leached the colors away, slowly but surely.

Aura aimed her guns with a sigh of frustration, and pulled the trigger, not even squinting at the sudden flare of the flames that leaped from their finely polished muzzles.

And as the pasteboard target she'd hassled all day dissolved to ashes, she stared at it in mute fury.

When the fire had at last died down, she held up her revolvers. Smoke still drifted from their barrels, winding its lazy spiral into the air.

She blew it away, and watched it curl and vanish into nothingness.

She holstered her guns.

And she walked away.

-owari-


	12. Indulgence

Indulgence

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own FF:U, obviously. If I did, it would turn into a very, very twisted Cloudshipping romance with lots of gratuitous fan service and implications and… and… and… suffice it to say that I don't own, and you should be glad, because of the number of kids who wouldn't have been able to watch and enjoy it if I did.

**Genre: **Romance, with a pinch of silliness and mild lemon for spice. :3

**Rating: **T for sexual content

**Warnings: **Yaoi, incest, sexual content that lies somewhere in the nebulous realm between 'totally inexplicit' and 'graphic lime'. :P Hey, we're entitled to our own OTPs too. XD Don't like, don't read.

**Pairing: **Cloudshipping, duh.

All through the sixteen years of his life so far, Kumo had for the most part acted as the good child in his family, the by-the-book, toe-the-line kind of kid. Someone had to. Responsibility fell heavily along the shoulders of everyone in his family, though some definitely bore it better than others, and his reckless elder brother didn't seem to pay any heed to it at all sometimes. He was the youngest; his parents worried deeply about him all the time, and he did his best to make sure that they didn't have to.

He was okay with that.

Though he _did _sometimes wish that he had Kiri's total disregard for the rules, and the confidence and freedom that came with being the firstborn.

Then again, those wishes had been made at a distance.

When Kumo had any _real _rule-breaking shoved in his lap, sometimes he found it hard to handle.

Like now, for instance.

The cool stone wall had long since warmed to his back, but that wasn't something he was in the state of mind to notice. Rather, his attention was on the firm body pressed against his, the callused hands that had a steady hold on his hips, the warm yet demanding lips that sealed over his own in a slow and sultry kiss, and the spicy, almost overwhelmingly erotic scent of his lover's arousal.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he half-spoke, half-moaned into the soft lips that brushed against his even as the two of them came apart for a few seconds to breathe.

"…So?" his brother asked idly, and kissed him so deeply, so sweetly that Kumo was barely able to keep standing. He couldn't _think _when he had this beautiful body pressed up against his, couldn't say no to the gentle hunger of the questing lips and tongue tangled up in his own. His knees wanted to give out on him, sending him sprawling into the softly helpless, earthshakingly open and vulnerable position that Kiri liked best.

Kumo held on, though nearly panicky alarm and giddy desire flirted in fluttering circuits through his mind.

Barely.

Kiri's lips slid from his brother's to kiss along the lines of Kumo's throat, nibbling gently down to his clavicle and lingering over his favorite spot, the sharp dip at the center of his collarbones.

Kumo sighed and squeezed Kiri's upper arms. "I have _class," _he insisted, begging, though his body was _screaming _to be thrown down along a mattress and ravished. "There's no time…"

Kiri waved a hand idly.

_"Niisama," _Kumo protested, shivering a little as that familiar antsy feeling wound teasingly up his back.

Kiri stopped leaving pink marks all over the soft lines of Kumo's throat and the sharp angles of his clavicle to give his brother a disapproving, almost parental look. "Come on, Kumo. You run to that class every day, ten or fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, and end up sitting outside until your teacher's ready to see you. You need to stop being paranoid, especially since you _hate _that class."

Kumo fidgeted, blushed as the action ground their hips together, and gave his brother a harassed look. "Niisama, I am _not _being paranoid. You're _never_ finished that fast. You always want to take _hours _in bed."

Kiri rolled his eyes, then gave Kumo a patient look. "Then cut class today. It's not like it's gonna _matter. _You have a perfect attendance record anyway."

Kumo gave his brother a scandalized look. _"Niisama!"_

"Look, Kumo-chan…" Kiri wore a smile that was half-tolerant, half-predatory. "No matter how much your _mouth _tells me you want to go to class, _this _keeps saying you want to go to _bed."_ Kumo gasped and sank back against the wall, closing his eyes; the would-be gentle squeeze of Kiri's hand between his legs was more than he could stand. Letting that smile turn into a slow, sultry smirk, Kiri leaned in, grazing his lips across Kumo's again when he spoke. "And I think I know which I'm going to trust as to what you _really _want."

"B-but… Niisama…" Kumo squirmed, turning pleading eyes on his brother.

"Shhh." Kiri kissed that soft cheek, smiling into Kumo's skin. "Indulge yourself for once."

And despite Kumo's increasingly feeble attempts at resistance, Kiri walked him down the wall, finding the door to their room and shepherding his brother inside.

Though he still whimpered out his protests, Kumo allowed his brother to tenderly lay his slender body out along their mattress, let Kiri's sword-roughened but gentle hands slide under his clothes, and only whispered his lover's name as the redhead slowly slid off his soft white blouse, then undid his leggings, and finally slipped Kumo's panties down along his hips.

Sweet, intimate, and completely irresistible—it was the luscious sin in which the two of them could take the time to fully celebrate their bodies and the unconventional desire they shared for each other. Kumo sighed, surrendering to the guilt-plagued pleasure, as Kiri crushed him softly to the sheets.

And as Kiri came inside him, he forgot even guilt in the savage silken passion that consumed him.

---

Kumo lay half-asleep in the cradling wreckage of the bed linens, a lazy arm around Kiri's waist and a faint smile on his face.

He did _not _regret missing class.

Even by their usual high standards, their lovemaking had been exquisite. By turns of violence and tenderness, Kiri had not only destroyed his brother's inhibitions completely, but made him forget for a while the responsibilities that lay in wait for him outside their room. And Kumo had lain against their white sheets—sheets that he'd bled into, stifled screams of ecstasy with, and left the stain of his mixed sweat and semen in time and time again—and let Kiri do wonderful, torturous things to his body.

Now, hours later, he was exhausted, and very, _very _happy.

But he wasn't so exhausted or happy that he didn't turn as he felt Kiri shift beside him, starting to sit up.

"Niisama?"

Kiri looked down at him questioningly.

"Where are you going?"

"It's been three hours, Kumo-chan. People are going to get worried about us if we stay up here any longer without them knowing where we are," Kiri pointed out.

Kumo regarded him with a slightly sulky look. "Stay."

"Kumo…"

Turning his vague pout into a crooked smile, Kumo tugged Kiri back down to him, relishing the sweet scent of Kiri's long hair. "Come on, Niisama… don't be like that. Indulge yourself."

Kiri raised his eyebrows, but smiled.

And slid back under the covers.

"You have a point."

-owari-


	13. Fate, by Inexorable

**Fate**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FF:U, nor Lee Sun-Hee's song, "Fate".

**Rating: **T

**Genre: **Angst/romance

**Pairings: **Cloudshipping (Kiri/Kumo)

**Dedication:** To Feral Phoenix, a simply amazing writer whose writing is a wonderful change from the drivel the FF:U section seems to accumulate. If you haven't read her works already, I suggest you do so. They are incredible.

--_italics_-- is the English lyrics to "Fate".

_**What Things Were:**_

_--I'll continuously wash and shine our love so it won't rust away_

_Our meeting was short like a drunken affair, but it was real  
Even though this cannot last, I won't resent it because nothing is forever  
This is what we call fate, it's something we can't deny--_

It's easy to remember his favorite memories. He always turns back on them when the present is too much to handle, when the whole cycle of pain and death and chaos is too much to bear.

He'll sit in a corner, immersed in his happiest memories, lost to the world. He would be thinking about how he and his brother used sleep in late in their bed, curled up together, just feeling safe by the mere _presence_ of the other. Kumo can't remember the last time he felt so safe and warm and loved by another.

He remembers gentle touches and light kisses, being together at all times, and when feeling particularly adventurous and risky, a small grope or caress here or there.

He remembers warm arms, encircling around his body when he was scared and in need of comforting. He remembers the words that spoke of commitment and love whispered softly into his ear. He remembers the soft and teasing touches that sent pleasurable tingles running down his spine.

His brother was his everything. He was his mentor, his friend, his happiness, his light, his lover…Kumo's entire life was circled around his brother. He adored him, looked up to him, _loved_ him. Loved him in a manner so very wrong, and yet so very right.

His mother had known, now that he looks back in retrospect. His mother had known, but she kept her silence. She might of thought it was wrong, but what right did she have to take away the one thing that would make her two beloved sons happy? What right did anyone have to take away his happiness?

And that thought pattern would inevitably take him down to _that_ memory. The memory of _that_ day and the horrors it brought. The day Chaos attacked his world.

It was the day…_he_ died. He had died, so Kumo could live on.

And though Kumo did not blame him, his brother had sent him from a surreal reality of the day his world was attacked…to a waking nightmare.

_**What Things Are:**_

_--Promise me that when this moment's over and we meet again  
That we can put everything in the past and stand by each other  
This is what we call fate, it's something we can't deny--_

He now spends his days locked in a fortress of his nightmares. The atmosphere that Chaos creates and the Death Lords lovingly nourish suffocates him; it injures his soul, the very core of his being. He hates the role he plays, pretending to love the God like the rest of them. No, his role is his duty. He can accept that.

But Chaos, the Death Lords…He hates them with every fiber of his being. He can't stand them. Their mere presence sends cold chills through his body; his stomach curls at the sight of them.

But most of all, he cannot stand Oscar. Oscar, the necromancer who brought back the one true joy of his life…his brother.

He should have been overjoyed. He should have thanked _Oscar_ for bringing his love back to him.

But something was wrong.

The dark expression in those ruby eyes that once held warmth and love, the bitter scowl on those soft lips that once caressed his skin so gently, the pure _hatred _etched on that beautiful face that once, by mere sight alone, brightened his day…all of those things sent warning bells ringing in his mind.

_Is he being possessed?_

And then…

…His brother had turned his sword towards him.

After that, things started rapidly falling apart.

"Do you know why at that time, when Chaos attacked our world, I was at the front of the lines…?" his brother had asked with a trace of derision in his voice.

Kumo had hazarded a guess, more intent on trying to find a trace of the warmth and happiness that is his brother.

No such luck.

Before Kumo realizes what is going on, his brother is charging towards him, sword drawn, and ready to _kill_.

Kill him.

They attack each other relentlessly, although every time Kumo's sword makes contact with his brother's, he internally winces, thinking that it _could have_ made contact with his brother's skin…That it _could have_ been the blow to end his brother's life.

And they continue with their dance of death—Kiri on the offensive and Kumo, doing anything he can to protect himself without hurting his brother.

Kumo continues searching, searching for any trace of the playful and mischievous person he fell for. Searching, searching…

There!

A small glimmer, a split-second of Kiri's true emotions—Pain, sadness, a silent plea…Please, please kill me before I hurt you any more than I already have, please…

Kumo grits his teeth. So it has come down to this? I understand your pain. I promise you that I will free you from it…

Eyes narrowed, his grip on his sword tightened, he will aim at the very thing that sustains his brother's form in the living world…He has no regrets, he is doing this because there is no other way, because this is the only way to save his brother from his pain.

But why, as Kumo tries to catch the falling form that is his brother that disappears into the air, does he feel so sorrowful…?

"_I'm sorry…Kumo-chan…"_

"…_Niisama!" _

_**What Things Could Have Been: **_

_-- Will I ever experience another day as glorious as today?  
You're a gift upon this exhausting path of life_

_There's so much I want to say, but you probably already know_

_This is what we call fate, it's something we can't deny--_

Kumo is watching his brother spar. It is a hot day, so both combatants have already taken off their shirts. Kiri's long hair is pulled into a high ponytail, away from his face. His opponent is just about his brother's age, a boy named Algus, or something else ridiculous like that.

The two fighters cross blades for quite some time before Kiri, letting out a triumphant battle cry, manages to disarm his opponent. His brother does some ridiculous victory pose, and Kumo laughs at the childishness of it.

It _is_ a hot day. Beads of sweat are making their way down Kiri's bare chest, caressing the soft skin like a lover. Kumo watches, a smile on his face, and he dreams that he is liquid water that glides down his brother's skin so gently, so intimately.

And then, Kumo realizes that he's been caught. Kiri, smirking widely, clucks his tongue in a way that reminds him all too well of his mother, and shakes his head in mock-disappointment.

Kumo just sticks out his tongue at him in reply. He knows it's a childish gesture, but when dealing with someone like his brother, one has to resort to childish means.

Kiri lets out a laugh, but that smirk Kumo begins to dread is still on his face.

"Pay attention to your surroundings!" Kiri chides, wagging a finger at Kumo.

Kumo frowns. What is he talking about?

And then, suddenly he feels it. _It_ was an evil presence that probably was just standing a few scant feet away. Kumo suppressed an urge to whimper in fear. He settled for a grimace, which he thought, was much more dignified than whimpering. Slowly, he turned around, to be met with a face so terrifying, it should be hidden away from civilization.

It was the angry face of his private tutor.

"So THIS is where you've been hiding all this time!"

Kumo swallows, and glances back at his brother for support. His brother just shrugs at him, as if saying, "what do you want me to do about it?"

Turning back to his tutor, he resigned himself to his fate as he was dragged back to class. His tutor, muttering under his breath ("I can't believe the NERVE of children these days!"), had been giving Kumo scary looks of doom the entire way back.

Kumo suppressed a sigh. It was going to be a long day.

It is late when he gets home. He offers a weary greeting to his mother who points at his dinner, carefully saved for him on a plate. Kumo shakes his head, mumbling an excuse about not being hungry, and slinks upstairs to the room he _knows_ his brother is already occupying.

And he is right. He opens to the door to his bedroom, and there Kiri is, on the bed, dressed in a pair of old pants and nothing else. He was flipping through a weapons magazine was a decidedly bored air before Kumo entered the room. Once his brother entered, Kiri dropped the magazine on the ground, and pounced on him.

"How was your day with the tutor from hell?" Kiri asks as he drags Kumo back to the bed.

"Could've been worse I guess…He just made me write a couple of essays on bad influences of elder siblings." Kumo shot Kiri a _look_ here.

"Don't worry about the old man." Kiri says. "He just takes out his frustration on you because he hasn't had sex for a couple decades…or more."

"Niisama!" Kumo exclaimed, looking scandalized, and yet, trying to hold in the laughter that threatened to engulf him.

"It's true!" Kiri retorts defensively. "Haven't you seen him always following around your music tutor like some pathetic puppy? And your music tutor never gives him a second look…The man needs to get laid!" Suddenly, Kiri wrinkles his nose in disgust. "Ew, bad image."

Kumo laughs and playfully hits his brother's chest with a pillow.

"Not everybody thinks about sex like you." Kumo chides.

"Pfft. We're young, hormonal teenagers. What else would we be thinking about?" Kiri shoots back, hitting his brother back.

"Something less perverted?" Kumo tries.

Kiri rolls his eyes. "Sure. Anyway…" he rolls over on top of Kumo and begins grinning, leering at his brother in a suggestive manner. "I noticed you were looking at me today…"

Kumo smirks this time. "Oh really? What would you do if I said I was looking at Algus the entire time?"

"I'd be very, very, very…" Kiri pauses to nip at Kumo's neck playfully. "disappointed. I thought you had better taste than that, my dear brother."

Kumo lets a giggle, squirming away from his brother's hands that have begun trailing over more intimate parts.

"Like it?" Kiri asks teasingly, letting his hand settle on Kumo's bare stomach (when did his shirt get _all _the way over _there?_).

Nodding, Kumo can only moan as that hand traces patterns on his skin, while the other slowly creeps up his leg and—

—and leaves him in his bed in Gaudium, lonely and cold and his heart in pieces. He turns over and buries his face in his pillow, screaming in rage, in helplessness, and in sorrow. He screams, crying out for his brother who is lost to him.

The tears will end. They always will end, eventually. And when they do, Kumo will think about the person who did this to him…

Chaos.

If only Chaos didn't exist, then maybe Kumo's happiness would have…

_-- The love we couldn't have in this life  
The fate we couldn't live in this life  
When we meet again some time in the future  
Please don't let go of me--_

"_Kumo-chan…I love you…"_

"_Niisama…I love you too…Don't ever leave me again…"_

"_Never again." _

**END**


	14. Unrequited

Unrequited

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Final Fantasy: Unlimited, nor do I own Aoi Ame, who belongs to fellow authoress Jessica Wolfe. I just borrow this stuff to bring a little bit of life to the FF:U section, okay? Don't sue me.

**Genre: **Angsty unrequited romance; see title.

**Rating: **K+ to be safe

**Warnings: **Original character; yaoi at a distance; and one sappy, angsty emo lament of a monologue. Hey, this is Feral Phoenix you're talking to!

**Pairings: **Cloudshipping, one-sided Kiri/OC

I watch you from a distance and know that it's a lost cause.

Still, who can help what they feel? I certainly can't.

Not after all the good things I've experienced, because I met you.

The first time I saw you, I was eight years old, and I'd snuck out to watch the swordsmen-in-training as they fought. I'd already told my parents that I wanted to be a healer, wanted to make use of the natural gift of my Mist that had always been able to relieve the pain of the injured souls around me. Still, I was curious about the way that other people of our race would be taught, and so I'd snuck away from my lessons on the way home to take a quick peek.

It was a practice battle, I guess, between the students, but I didn't know and didn't care—all I knew was that I couldn't take my eyes off you. Even so young, just four years older than me, your skills were already incredible; you finished off your opponents with ease. I didn't recognize you at first—I'd never seen you before, after all. But as I continued to watch you, I began to understand.

I'd become entranced with the child of the man and woman who were as close to leaders as our tight-knit community had, as close to rulers as our faith in the Way would allow. I was fascinated with the boy whom several of my own relatives sardonically called our "princeling", and the hope for our people—Akai Kiri, the boy Madoushi.

I followed you. I had to find out more about you.

You were brash, and charismatic, with a charming, heart-stealing smile that won over the people around you even though you didn't seem to realize it. You were so caring towards your shy and fragile baby brother—so much so that perhaps I should've realized far sooner than we all did—and the way you helped him practice basic swordsmanship in secret, against the wishes of your parents, touched my heart.

Even then, I found myself a victim to that peculiar aura you always carried, the one that magnetized people to you with or without your wanting them there.

In time, I came to know you, just as I came to know your brother. Sadly enough, even now I have to admit that I'm closer to Kumo than I've ever been to you, between the closeness of our ages and my assistance to the various healers who have treated him in his periodic relapses into near-deathly illness. He's such a kind and altruistic soul, even if he is a bit naïve. But he and I are the same—though we're both believers and fight for the good of our world, you are the altar at which we worship.

You are the one we both adore.

I can't follow you in your swordsmanship or your summoning, but I've always held my shrine to you within my heart, making my soul sing with the knowledge that I can help you and everyone else in ways that are just as important. In the poetry I write as part of my classes, I send you secret messages that never leave the walls of our home. "My heart is a flower that blooms in your presence, basking in the warmth and light from the sun that is your soul." It's romanticized, I know—the silly passions of a young girl who's hopelessly in love, and indubitably tongue-tied about it.

But the day came when you turned sixteen, when you were to finally announce your choice from amongst your friends—the one you would someday marry.

I should have known better, and yet I still hoped.

Hoshi and Arashi were already planning to exchange their vows—so why wouldn't I have hoped? I was too blinded by love to see the signs, after all…

Your choice shocked our city, when your parents announced it, as well as their acceptance.

Perversion, some called it—including those same relatives who always sneered at your position. Others got over their surprise with grace, shrugging it off and saying simply that a rare thing had happened, and all of us would most likely accept it in time.

I sometimes wonder to myself if I ever had a chance with you, the same endless days and nights when I wonder how many times you've taken him to your bed already, what with all the opportunities you've had over the years. When I wonder with a bitter heart how ready he is to spread his legs for you, and writhe with you in black sin through the nights.

But then the guilt eats at me, as I remember the earnest love Kumo has always had for you. Unusual though it may be, he has just as much right as I to want all of you, your body as well as your heart.

And I hate myself for being so jealous of someone I still consider to be one of my closest friends.

After all, it isn't as though there's anything I can do about it. It has been declared, and so it shall be on Kumo's eighteenth birthday: Red Mist and White Cloud shall be made as one in the eyes of our people, and your happiness will be complete.

Besides… even if I cannot have you for myself, I do want you to be happy.

That's what I console myself with, when I look into the mirror and wonder why I was never good enough for you. My hair is as silken as it is unruly, and long, pulled into two plaits that rest along my chest, a deep oceanic blue just a few shades lighter than the healer's garb in which I clothe myself. No swordbelt do I wear, although the belt that holds the Mist bottles I call my guardian Ittouju with is slung along my hips at the same angle yours is. Lace encircles my throat in the softest baby blues, delicate and feminine. My eyes are blue as well, but the blue of the endless sky above us, the blue of the hope I used to hold for us. I am tall, and slender, barely half an inch below Kumo's height, though it seems like his growth is slowing down at last. My skin is pale from the long hours spent indoors, practicing my healing arts; my face is soft, with full, unpainted lips and a dreamer's heavily lashes.

I wonder if it's my femininity itself that turned you away from me; if in fact you have no attraction for my sex at all. It could be possible; I will never know, since I don't have nearly enough courage to ask.

Still, you smile at me when we pass each other in the streets. It's the smile of a friend, but it's a smile, and as it's all I have, I treasure it.

When you are injured, when you suffer, I will be there, carrying the silver staff that holds the crystal of my soul, ready to do my best to heal your wounds.

When you falter in the heat of battle, I will be there, ready to call an Ittouju that will shield you from harm, protect you until you're ready to take up your sword once again.

I love you, though you will never know it.

And I will carry my silent secret through my heart, and keep the rain of my tears—the rain for which I was named—hidden from your view, until the day I die.

Kumo is your light, your sun, the entirety of your world, and the focus of your existence.

So I shall make myself into your moon, the night sky that watches over you when you aren't aware of it, the healing darkness that will support you even as your brother—your lover—continues to light your way.

My love may be unrequited, but it will always be there.

And I, in turn, will always be there for you.

No matter what, I will always be there.

-owari-


	15. Pronunciation

Pronunciation

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy: Unlimited, so sorry. If I did, it would've run all episodes as planned, thanks very much.

**Rating: **K. OMG, Feral actually wrote something K-rated/shock, faint

**Genre: **Fluff drabble!

**Warnings: **None, really

**Pairings:** My first Agentshipping!

She sure had come a long way from their first meeting, Dolk Soljashy couldn't help but think to himself.

Her self-confidence seemed to have grown over those months; it was amazing what the support of someone else could do for you. The vibrant young woman sitting next to him in the café booth was a far cry from the skittish girl who had crashed smack into him as they rushed in opposite directions down the halls of the C2 compound where they both worked—the one who had pretty much squeaked and tried to run off, glowing scarlet with embarrassment and stammering out apologies the entire time.

Well, it had only been her first day on the job. Still, she'd been so hopelessly scattered that he hadn't been able to help taking pity on her. Whether or not that made him too decent for his own good, Dolk didn't know and didn't particularly care.

These days she wasn't making nearly as many mistakes, nor was she quite as nervous as she'd used to be. The high-pitched evasive giggle that put so many people on edge at work was slowly starting to disappear, replaced by a more genuine smile and a surprised-sounding laugh that might not be belly-laugh material, but came straight from her heart, which was what mattered.

Yes, Lisa Pacifist was adapting to her life in Russia and her job at her father's agency quite nicely.

There was just _one _thing she still had trouble with.

And even though it was a lost cause, she _would not _stop trying to fix it.

"Doluku Solujatshi."

"It"… being her accent.

Dolk smiled and shook his head indulgently. "Lisa…"

She wasn't taking the hint. Brow furrowed in concentration, the young woman hunched her shoulders, mouthed something under her breath, and tried again, struggling for control of her tongue.

"Doluku Solujatshi."

"Lisa…"

She _still _wasn't taking the hint. With a frustrated growl, Lisa shook her head and opened her mouth to try one more time.

"Lisa."

She blinked up at him. "What…?"

Dolk pointed at the mug of coffee that sat in front of her. "Are you going to let that get cold, Lisa? It's been sitting there for a few minutes now."

Lisa went bright red, murmured her thanks, and sipped at it.

It had become a routine for the two of them: After saying goodnight to their other work buddies, they would head home together, and stop on the way for coffee and pirozhki before heading their separate ways. And since Dolk was probably one of the few people she knew in Russia who she didn't get self-conscious around, she would relentlessly practice her Russian and listen to his advice while she did so.

Though she'd made vast improvements since the two of them had met, it didn't seem to be enough for the perfectionist in Lisa.

And so, she'd been spending the last month or so working on what she saw as her biggest problem—the fact that she could not for the _life _of her pronounce Dolk's name correctly.

Well, Dolk didn't care. Actually, he thought that both the way Lisa said his name now and how hard she was trying to get it right were unbelievably cute. But no matter how hard he tried to convince her that she was just fine where she was, Lisa seemed stuck on the fact that if two people were _dating, _then they should at least be able to say each other's names right.

Lisa set down her coffee, took a deep breath, and started up again.

"Doluku Solujatshi."

"It isn't going to happen overnight, you know," Dolk commented helpfully. Lisa groaned and slumped down until her face hit the table.

"I'm _never _going to get it right."

"Don't worry about it."

"I hear how they laugh at you at work because of the way I say your name," Lisa said pitifully, looking up at him out of those big brown eyes. "I just want them to leave you alone…"

"That doesn't matter," Dolk told her, touched. "Who cares what they think? No matter what you call me, as long as you're talking to me I'll answer to it."

From the look on her face, _Lisa _cared what everyone else thought, but she didn't say anything on the matter.

"Come on, let's finish up so we can go home," Dolk prodded. "You worked hard today. You deserve to get a good night's sleep. Okay?"

Lisa nodded, but as usual, she couldn't resist trying just _one _more time anyway.

"Doluku Solujatshi."

As Dolk covered a laugh, Lisa gave that nettled little huff and folded her arms, frustration written over every inch of her body.

Reaching across the table to ruffle her hair, Dolk shook his head. "If you're really _that _worried about it, just 'Dolu' is fine, okay? It's closer, and it'll save you the trouble of beating yourself up about it all the time."

Lisa sighed and nodded, finally giving in.

But even as the two of them left, walking down the already-cold streets, he could hear her practicing the name under her breath.

Dolk shook his head and smiled.

As vexing to Lisa as it might be, he privately hoped that she'd _never _outgrow that adorable accent.

-owari :D-


	16. The Morning After

The Morning After

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FF:U, etc. etc. you know the drill. The excerpt of lyrics at the end of the fic are from Utada Hikaru's infamous "Simple and Clean".

**Genre: **Angst, because emo boys are so cute.

**Rating: **T

**Pairings: **Onesided Skyshipping; also talk about Cloudshipping

**Warnings: **Lots of talk about YAOI SECKS, oh my gawd, but no actual sex. Yaoi pairings; also mild spoilers for the end of After 2.

Kumo woke to the faint smell of must, the tangle of thin, overwashed cheap cotton sheets about his body, and a groggy confusion that lingered after the first few minutes of unwilling wakefulness.

_What in the world…? _he wondered, trying to sit up. He quickly thought better of that as he realized that his body was one big mass of aches and pains.

His head was killing him. It was throbbing so hard that even thinking was difficult; Kumo doubted that he'd ever had a headache quite this vicious before. He felt vaguely battered, though he didn't really understand why; though he dredged up the strength to peek beneath the sheets, there were only a few marks on his naked hips and belly, and most of those were old. His lower body especially ached dully, although that faint discomfort erupted into ripples of fire as he tried to roll over and in doing so shifted his legs. A fierce chill ran over Kumo's back as he realized that something down there had been torn.

If all that wasn't bad enough, Kumo's insides felt twisted and knotted, and there was a sick thickness at the back of his throat that told him he was probably going to throw up if he wasn't careful.

There was a strange aftertaste in his mouth, one that took Kumo a while to place, as he'd only experienced it once before. But when he had, things slowly started making sense.

Alcohol. He was hung over.

The seventeen-year-old Mystarian covered his face with his hands and groaned with feeling. He'd only been drunk once before, when he was fourteen and had been offered a drink of ritual wine for the first time at a friend's coming-of-age ceremony. He'd taken it, and afterwards had sworn never to do so again. Kumo just couldn't hold his liquor.

And through the haze of alcohol, he couldn't for the life of him remember why he'd decided to drink last night anyway.

He recognized this place now—it was a room in the inn he and Kaze had decided to stay in to wait for Crux to report. They'd been on the road ever since they'd left the home world of Lisa and the Hayakawa twins; this place had seemed a welcome respite from sleeping on the cold ground.

So why was he like this? Everything from about the middle of last night's dinner until now was one big blank.

Kumo managed to sit up very slowly, looking around for some kind of clue as to what had happened to him.

As his gaze hit the still-sleeping man beside him, the shock nearly made his heart stop.

Kaze lay on his side with his back to Kumo and his long mahogany-brown hair unbound. The unconcern on his face made him seem so tranquil, so calm—an unbelievable contrast to the horror beginning to play over Kumo's features.

As the white-haired swordsman stared at Kaze in disbelief, brief flashes of memory began to illuminate the abyss of the past night.

The soft _thump _as his body was thrown back against the same mattress he still rested on now…

Hot, passionate kisses that he could neither keep up with nor resist…

And a climax that had been more pain than pleasure.

Reality, unwanted and oppressive, loomed over Kumo's shock-numbed body as he continued to stare, bewildered, starting to shake his head in feeble protest of what had just happened to him.

"No," he whispered, starting to tremble uncontrollably. His voice rose to a cracked and pleading shout even as he lurched back, staggering out of bed and snatching up his discarded clothing piece by piece. _"No!"_

---

The shout was what awakened Kaze out of what felt like the best sleep he'd had in months.

Disorientation didn't last long; though what was left of the pleasant buzz of the ale he'd imbibed was still a slight damper on his senses, he was plenty alert. Sitting up, he frowned at Kumo, who was trying to struggle into his clothes with a look on his face, which was already paled by his hangover.

"…What's wrong?"

Kumo looked up at him, and staggered. _"What's wrong?" _he repeated shrilly. "What's _wrong? _What did you _do _to me last night?"

Kaze slipped out of bed and strode over to the swordsman, reaching out to steady him. "Calm down… you'll fall. You're still sick."

Kumo lashed out, slapping Kaze's hand away. _"Don't!"_

Kaze sighed, trying not to show how deeply Kumo's wild cry had cut. "We were drunk. You were miserable. Both of us needed someone."

Kumo stared at him. "I don't believe this. You got me _drunk _and then you took advantage of me? _Kaze! _How _could _you?"

"That's not—" Kaze tried to protest, drawing close again.

Kumo lurched back, stumbling and half-collapsing against the wall. _"Don't touch me," _he whispered, his eyes wild with fear.

"But…" Kaze faltered, though he didn't advance any further.

"Whatever your intentions may have been, whatever sentiment was behind your actions, _rape is still rape, Kaze," _Kumo told him with tears in his eyes. "I _trusted _you. I just can't believe you would do something like this to me."

And as Kumo dragged himself out of the room, Kaze was left staring after him, hurt and disbelieving.

---

Kaze ranged around the empty bar on the inn's lower level, lost in thought, considering Kumo's behavior and trying to rationalize it even as he let the hurt swell and ebb within its tight confines in his chest.

Kumo had been drunk last night—_very _drunk. Kaze had known, vaguely, that the swordsman was bad at handling alcohol, but by the time Kumo had gotten started, Kaze himself was drunk enough that he hadn't gently stopped the young man as he should've. Through the long evening hours, each of them had nursed a tankard of ale against his troubles, getting it refilled for a few coins every time the bottom came into sight.

Kaze had known, in a distant way, that Kumo had loved and lost someone very important to him, some time ago. He had also known, in a still more distant way, that Kumo had suffered intense sexual abuse while he had stayed at Gaudium to investigate Chaos. But the reality of that knowledge had never quite sunk in until now.

Kumo had seemed so lonely, so desolate. All Kaze had done was reach out to him, so it seemed, and inebriated as he had been, Kumo had nevertheless sensed kindness in Kaze's apparently misjudged advances and had latched blindly onto it. And the next thing Kaze had known, they were tumbling into bed, making love.

Kumo had whispered "please" once, but that was it. And if that "please" had become a "please don't", Kaze would have stopped at once, but it never had. There might have been other misinterpreted signals along the line, but both of them had been too drunk to sort such things out properly.

What stuck out most in Kaze's mind was that the name Kumo had cried over and over wasn't the right one. And now that the tall Windarian thought about it, it might not have just been the confusion born of Kumo's drunken state, but a plea to the one the young man had truly loved, for help or strength. At the time, it had made Kaze a little uneasy, but at that point there'd been no going back.

What it all came down to was that what Kaze had meant as an act of love and sympathy had instead been taken as a severe breach of Kumo's trust. And what Kaze _should _do would be to go to him, explain himself, apologize.

But everything had already gone so wrong, and Kaze was afraid that like so often happened with everything else, he just wouldn't be able to find the words.

And it hurt so much to have Kumo look at him through those wounded, fearful eyes.

The approach of the innkeeper drew Kaze out of his reverie.

"Your buddy sure isn't doing too well," the portly man said, hoisting up a barrel of mead to carry it across the bar. "The poor kid's as sick as a dog. He just stopped throwing up, and he's still too dizzy to walk straight. I don't think I've ever seen someone with a hangover _this _ugly, even before I came to Wonderland."

Kaze gave a noncommittal grunt in reply, even as his insides squirmed guiltily. He should never have let Kumo get himself so incapacitated last night.

"There's some coffee brewing in back," the innkeeper continued. "Once it's done, why don't you go take him some? It might do him some good."

---

Kaze had no idea how Kumo liked his coffee or even if he drank it, much less where the innkeeper kept his sugar and cream, and so the liquid in the mug he carried was blacker than oblivion, and probably as bitter as sin.

Thankfully, the door was open a crack, enabling Kaze to nudge it further open with his foot instead of having to set the coffee down to use the doorknob.

Kumo was sitting up in bed with his knees drawn up to his chest and his face in his hands, rocking back and forth and whispering to himself in a language Kaze didn't know.

Kaze shifted awkwardly and cleared his throat; Kumo glanced up with an almost panicked look on his face which faded into wary worry when he saw who it was.

As Kumo continued to watch him, Kaze sighed and hooked his ankle around the leg of a nearby chair, dragging it over to the Mystarian's bedside. "Here," he said softly, holding out the mug. "From the innkeeper. Drink it."

Kumo hesitated, but tentatively accepted the coffee as Kaze sat down. The young swordsman took a deep breath of the steam still rising from it, then settled it in his lap as he uncurled his tight ball, not meeting Kaze's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Kaze told him in a gentle voice.

Kumo said nothing, but his hands tightened around the coffee he still cradled.

"I never meant to hurt you."

Kumo sighed, then finally spoke, his voice husky. "I know."

There was a long silence.

"I think… I started to realize I'd made a mistake when I heard you calling his name and not mine," Kaze said at length. "But by then I couldn't have stopped even if I'd been sober enough to."

Kumo stared at the far wall with a distant expression, then raised the mug he still held to his lips, taking a long and delicate sip.

Once he'd settled the coffee again, he began to speak in a grave and private voice, a dreamy cast settling over his eyes.

"I was fifteen our first time—_my _first time. For the first few nights the pain was almost unbearable… but after that, it was just so wonderful." He sighed. "He was always so gentle with me… at first he kept wanting to stop, but I never let him." At last, Kumo turned his gaze on Kaze, looking at the other man through his soft lashes. "I bled the first time, you know. I was so scared, and it hurt so much. I couldn't stop crying, but he was so patient with me." Kumo sighed again and turned away. "Even though it took me two weeks before I could come on my own, without him helping me… he never despaired of me, always reassured me."

"You loved each other very much," Kaze observed, his voice quiet and respectful.

Kumo nodded. "Niisama was _everything _to me," he said, his voice trembling. As Kaze watched, a tear slipped down his soft cheek. "…He always used to tell me I was beautiful."

"You _are _beautiful," Kaze couldn't help but say.

Kumo turned to regard him through eyes that glittered with tears. "Even now, I wake up at night and I can feel Chaos' hands on me," he said in a voice that was almost a whisper. "I thought I was going to die in that place—I couldn't stand what was happening to me." Kumo shuddered. "Even now, I don't think I could stand being touched that way by anyone, ever again. Niisama and I made a _vow—_and I'm not pure anymore, I can never be again." There was a horribly vulnerable look on Kumo's face as he shook his head. "Sometimes I think I'll never be able to live with myself again."

"Don't _say _that," Kaze interrupted, softly but intensely. "It wasn't your fault… then, _or _now. I should've known better."

Kumo drew and released a long breath. "I know. And I know that now you would never intentionally hurt me, but the truth is still that you took advantage of the state I was in—you still raped me, Kaze, and nothing will ever change that."

Kaze bowed his head. "I made a mistake, and I'll always regret it."

Kumo turned away. "Some mistakes are hard to forgive."

"I understand." There was a long silence; finally, Kaze stood up. "I'll see if there's anything I can get for you." He paused then leaned in to kiss Kumo's tearstained cheek. "…I love you."

"I love _my brother," _was Kumo's whispered reply, fierce and loyal.

Kaze nodded, then straightened and walked away, closing the door behind him.

He didn't look back.

:Hold me 

_Whatever lies beyond this morning_

_Is a little later on_

_Regardless of warnings the future doesn't scare me at all_

_Nothing's like before:_

(owari)


	17. Legendary

Legendary

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy: Unlimited, which should be obvious because it would probably still be on Japanese television right now, going into its fifth season.

**Rating: **K. OMG another K! It's an epidemic!

**Genre: **Drama, humor, fluff. Take your pick. Something between those, anyway.

**Pairings: **What will eventually become Cloudshipping but isn't quite there at the moment.

**Warnings: **Uh… what is there to warn about? No one has any objection to Mystarian midgets, right?

Kiri was awake the second he heard it, feeling dread roll through him at the very sound.

Not even bothering to cross the room to his brother's bed just to check, he ran to the door of their room instead, opening it and yelling into the corridor for his parents.

"Otosan! Okaasan! Come quick! Kumo's coughing again!"

From down the hall, there was a rustle of sheets, then the slide of their door opening, followed by footsteps.

Kageshi and Madori entered their sons' room, tousle-headed but ashen-faced with worry. Their nightclothes were rumpled and from the looks of things, they hadn't had much sleep; Kiri wasn't surprised, though the grave looks on his parents' faces in the light of the tiny lantern Kageshi held made his chest constrict in fear.

As one, the three of them turned to look at Kumo, who Madori had barely tucked into bed hours ago. He was indeed coughing—shallowly and with barely any pause to breathe. And with illumination introduced to the boys' room, they could see that his normally pale skin was flushed bright pink, burning brightly with fever.

"I'll get a healer," Kageshi said softly, passing the lantern to his wife and sweeping back into the hall. In his absence, mother and son exchanged glances, then walked slowly to Kumo's bedside.

Kiri sighed and bit his lip. In earlier years, he had detested his brother's long and recurrent sicknesses, which had always taken his parents' attention away from him, until they had deemed him old enough to understand how serious such times really were.

Pregnancies were usually dangerous for Mystarians; with their tall and slender bodies and slim hips, carrying an unborn child for nine months proved to be a difficult strain, and forcing a child through that delicate pelvis during birth could easily injure mother or infant. Both of Madori's pregnancies had run late—so late, in fact, that a healer had had to be called in order to begin childbirth before the caul that protected her children in the womb could break naturally. With Kiri, this hadn't been a problem—at least not much of one; he'd been born with shreds of caul around his body, but he'd been alright, as none of them had obstructed his breathing or gotten too tightly tangled around any part of his body.

With Kumo, though…

Kiri's memories of his little brother's birth were vague and frightening. It had taken days for Kumo to finally be brought into the world, and when Madori had at last given that critical push, Kiri's parents and the healers attending them had been devastated to realize that part of the caul that had encased Kumo in the womb had been covering his nose and mouth, and been tangled around his throat—he'd nearly suffocated, and the healers had struggled for over an hour to keep him alive. Even so, Kumo had been very sick for a long time, and while his family had watched over and protected him every step of the way, by the time he finally managed to walk on his own, he was already starting to speak.

Kumo was a sweet little boy who had a way of endearing himself to everyone around him, and although Kiri didn't like having to vie with another child for his parents' attention, it was more fun than he usually admitted to have a constant companion who wholeheartedly adored him like Kumo did. However, the times when he could actually behave like a normal child, able to run around with his brother and parents, were rare. Due to his shaky beginnings, Kumo had been an unusually weak child for the five years of his life, quick to catch any illness coming through their city and unbearably slow to get better. Only a few months ago, Kumo had been bedridden for seven long and agonizing weeks with a bout of pneumonia that everyone had feared would claim his life.

Somehow, Kumo had gotten through it—but ever since then, Kiri and their parents had been even more paranoid than usual towards any signs of impending illness. The healers had warned them that Kumo might not be so lucky the next time.

_This _time.

Kiri sat down next to his fragile baby brother, wanting to hug Kumo close but knowing that his mother would likely scold him for doing anything so rough at a time like this, and that his brother's skin would likely be far too hot for him to stand touching for too long. He settled for putting a hand on Kumo's fluffy white hair instead, smoothing it out in a repetitive, comforting motion.

"He's still sleeping…" Madori observed, taking her son's tiny hand in both of hers.

"I wonder what he's dreaming about," Kiri said softly, smiling even as he looked into Kumo's fever-flushed face with worried love.

---

Fabula could tell from the moment that little Kumo wandered into her palace for their nightly visit that something was wrong.

Try as he might, the Mystarian child couldn't hide his soft coughing, and the thick blush on his face and the slight stumble to his walk told the story clearly enough. He was sick again.

"Oh, dear," she said aloud, shaking her head sympathetically. "No lessons tonight. You know it's impossible for either of us to concentrate when you aren't feeling well."

Kumo stared at her with wide, apologetic eyes even as he covered his coughing with a hand. "I'm sorry," he managed, almost tearful.

"It isn't your fault," Fabula consoled him, sweeping him into her arms as he approached her. He was still so small, so delicate, yet so mature for one so young. And he was still of the age where little boys loved being babied, which was definitely a good thing, because Fabula enjoyed making a fuss over him. "You know, you're getting stronger every day, even if you don't know it—sometime soon, you'll stop getting sick so often."

"Really?" Kumo looked up at her, trust and the deep desire to believe her words in his lovely green eyes.

"Of course," Fabula promised, smiling. Kumo was a master at melting hearts—especially hers. She held him for a while as he settled into her arms, curled up in her lap. After a few moments, she leaned down to kiss his cheek. "Kumo, I want you to be honest with me. Are you in pain?"

He looked up at her, startled, but didn't answer.

"You can't hide it from me," she told him seriously even as she stroked his hair. "Even when you aren't coughing, your breathing's ragged, and your heart's beating so fast. You have fever pains again, don't you?"

Kumo offered her a trembling smile. "It doesn't hurt much," he told her, anxiously twisting the hem of his shirt.

"You're a good child," Fabula said patiently, "but you can't lie. It still shows on your face." Very gently, she settled his tiny body back against hers. "It must be very hard for you to bear, but you really are growing strong, to try to hide your own suffering to spare those around you." Kumo said nothing as she continued to stroke his hair and back. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Now Kumo smiled, his small hands tightening into fists on the silky fabric of her dress. "Tell me a story."

Fabula smiled back, shaking her head. "I should have known." Even if there was nothing else she could do for Kumo, there was always this. The dear child had discovered early on that due to her occupation, Fabula was a nearly bottomless well of strange and wondrous tales—some were true, some were legends and fairy tales she had absorbed from every possible source in her long and lonely years as a Guide, and just as many were made up on the spot.

Those happened to be Kumo's favorites, and they always started the same way.

Fabula looked into the distance, thought for a moment, and began.

"Once upon a time in a land far, far away, there was a princess named Kumoko."

Recognizing the entrance of his favorite heroine, Kumo snuggled closer to Fabula, his smile growing as he waited for what would come next.

"Kumoko was no ordinary princess. Everyone in the kingdom loved her, not just because she was beautiful inside and out, but because she was smart and because she had saved everyone in it many times before, whenever disaster fell throughout their land.

"Whenever anything bad happened to the castle and its people, Kumoko would go with her two best friends—her big sister Kiriko and a peasant girl named Kazeko who lived in the village around the castle—and do what needed to be done to save them, because she loved everyone in her home as much as they loved her.

"One day, Kumoko left the castle to visit her friend Kazeko, but when she got to the house where Kazeko lived, Kazeko's parents told her that Kazeko was too sick to come outside. Kumoko was worried and asked if she could come in and visit her friend there anyway, but Kazeko's parents said no—Kazeko and some of her peasant friends had all gotten sick, and many other children in the village had caught it from them. If Kumoko came inside, she might get sick, too.

"Kumoko was disappointed that she couldn't even say hello to her friend, and went home, unhappy that there wasn't anything that she could do even to make Kazeko feel better about being stuck inside. Kumoko never got sick, but sometimes her big sister did, and she knew that it always made Kiriko happy when other people were around to keep her company.

"But when Kumoko got back and went to see her parents, the king and queen, they were holding court with everyone in the castle. Kumoko's parents had heard of the illness spreading through the village outside, and they were very worried about it. Many more children had gotten sick than Kazeko's parents had told Kumoko—and none of the grown-ups knew what to do. And though Kumoko's parents hadn't wanted her to hear it, their daughter had walked into the court just when they were telling everyone about how one of the first little girls who had gotten sick had died only that morning."

Kumo, who had been sitting riveted to Fabula's tale, gasped, staring up at her out of wide, frightened eyes.

"When Kumoko heard about this, she thought of Kazeko, and she was terrified that something so horrible might happen to her dear friend, too. Nothing like this had ever happened where they lived before, and no one had the kind of medicine that could save the children, but there was a town a few days away that had a skilled pharmacist. Kumoko begged her parents to let her go and ask for the pharmacist's help, but the king and queen refused. They would be sending soldiers to the town in a little while, and they didn't want to risk that their daughter might get sick, either."

"But Kumoko doesn't get sick," Kumo protested loyally.

"She'd never gotten sick before, but parents worry very much about their children, and Kumoko's parents loved her very much and didn't want to take the chance," Fabula explained. "Kumoko knew that if she waited, though, that it might be too late for Kazeko, so in the middle of the night, she went to her sister's room and explained to Kiriko what she was going to do.

"Kiriko loved adventures and decided to go along with Kumoko—and the two of them snuck out of the castle in the middle of the night, heading towards the town by themselves to save Kazeko and all the other children.

"The town where the pharmacist lived lay along the same river that the castle was built next to, so all Kumoko and Kiriko had to do was follow it to get there. For the first day, they traveled quickly, wanting to put distance between themselves and the castle in case their parents sent someone out to get them. Kiriko hunted for their food, and Kumoko protected them at night with her magic powers.

"The second day, Kumoko noticed that Kiriko was acting strangely, but when she asked her sister what was wrong, Kiriko protested that she was fine. Kumoko was worried, but she trusted her sister's words, and they kept going, always staying by the river, drinking from it and bathing in it when they made camp. Kiriko seemed to be acting even stranger—even though she was the best hunter in the castle, she couldn't catch anything for their dinner, because she was moving too slowly.

"Still, Kiriko said she was fine, and Kumoko didn't ask her about it again. They ate vegetables for dinner instead and went to sleep early.

"On the third morning, Kiriko slept late, and when Kumoko went to wake her up, she realized that her sister had a fever. Somehow, Kiriko was getting sick, too. Kumoko wanted her sister to go back home, but Kiriko refused to leave Kumoko alone, and the two of them headed towards the town, which had just come into sight.

"But once Kumoko and Kiriko went into the town, Kiriko became too dizzy to stand up. Together, the two sisters headed to the riverbank to rest. And there, they saw something frightening.

"The place where the town gathered their garbage to burn it was right next to the river, and there was a hole in the fence, which was letting some of the garbage spill into the water. It was the garbage in the river water that was making everyone sick in their home, and because they had been using the river water as well, Kiriko had gotten sick, too.

"Kumoko helped her sister to the pharmacist's, and told him what had happened. The pharmacist, shocked by their story, told them that he had been working on a new medicine a few weeks ago, and that some of his failed tries had actually made patients sick instead of healthy. He realized that the poisons he had accidentally produced must have fallen into the river through the hole in the fence after he'd thrown them away.

"The pharmacist gave Kumoko an antidote to the poison, and told her not to let anyone at home drink the water from the river for another few weeks. Kumoko and Kiriko went home and passed the pharmacist's message on to everyone there. Kiriko and Kazeko took the antidote, and in a few days they were better again—so were all the other children.

"Everyone was grateful to Kumoko for finding out what was wrong, although they said that it was lucky that she never got sick, or the same would've happened to her and then something horrible surely would have happened."

"And they lived happily ever after," Kumo concluded sleepily from Fabula's lap.

Fabula smiled indulgently. "Yes, they did, because Kumoko and her friends were always there to help if anything went wrong. Now, you'd better go back home. You need to be strong and get better, because I'm sure your family is getting worried about you."

Kumo nodded. "Okay." Fabula set him down, and he ambled out the way he had come, stumbling even more than before from sheer tiredness.

Fabula smiled wryly and shook her head after him. It was so easy to keep him happy. A story here and there, and he could forget everything bad that had ever happened to him.

It obviously didn't hurt that everyone around him loved him so dearly.

"You might not believe me now that one day you won't have to live with this weakness any more, but you'll see I was right sooner or later," she said aloud, although Kumo was already long gone. "You're stronger than you think."

---

The healer that Kageshi had brought to check on Kumo shook his head and smiled at the boy's worried family.

"This sickness isn't going to do him any lasting harm," the man pronounced. "He'll need to stay inside for a week at most, but after that he should be alright. It's understandable that you worry, but he's getting stronger. So long as his pneumonia doesn't relapse, I think he'll be okay."

Both Kageshi and Madori relaxed visibly as they made to see the healer back outside, closing their sons' door behind them. Kiri glanced after them, then looked back down at Kumo, who wasn't sleeping quite so fitfully any more and was barely coughing now.

Smiling crookedly, he slipped into bed beside his brother, holding Kumo close and tousling his sleeping brother's hair. "I'll be here," he whispered, kissed Kumo's cheek, and closed his eyes.

Still a little worried but not nearly as much as before, Kiri allowed himself to relax and drift back into sleep.

Kumo would be better again soon. And one day in the future, all these scary times would be little more than a bedtime story for both of them.

-owari-


	18. Family

Family

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Final Fantasy: Unlimited, duh. If I did, ADV would probably be dubbing season two right this very minute. Incidentally, if you have any desire to see that happen in the near future, consider getting an account at Worlds and signing our petition.

**Rating: **K (the third one in about as many weeks, too… this is starting to be scary…)

**Genre: **Drama, with a little mix of angst and fluff for good measure

**Pairings: **Maybe some hinted Crystalshipping and/or Cloudshipping, but that would probably be very minor anyways, so it's all good.

**Warnings: **See pairings; also, there are mild spoilers here for the After Spiral arc. If you don't want to be spoiled, visit Worlds or ffunlimited on LiveJournal and fill yourself in first, 'kay?

It was raining.

It had barely started raining a few moments ago, but it was a fierce thing, and the almost-empty Hayakawa mansion on the coast of Sadogashima echoed with the rattle of droplets.

It was late, and everyone was pretty much settling in for bed. Lisa Pacifist was already in bed in one of the guest rooms, Chobi the chocobo was curled up somewhere downstairs with fairylike doll Crux alongside him, and the last anyone had heard of him, Kuroki Kaze was still sitting on the living room sofa, probably asleep by now. Ai and Yu Hayakawa were also in their room, but sleep seemed pretty far from Ai's mind at the moment.

Shoving the window open, she leaned almost halfway out into the open air, squinting against the intensity of the rain. "MAKENSHI! What are you still doing outside? Get in here already!"

From the rooftop, the white-haired swordsman leaned over in order to reply, but through the rain Ai couldn't see his expression as he called back, "I'll be fine, don't worry about me."

"What are you talking about? You're gonna get sick if you sit out there all night! Ojisan is downstairs anyway—it's not like he'll try anything _or _like he'll care! You can stay in our room for the night, okay? Just get inside!"

There was a long pause, then a sigh that was almost lost through the rain. "…Alright."

Looking pleased with herself, Ai backed up as a rather bedraggled-looking figure in white swung down from the roof, then clambered awkwardly through the window to stand next to it, soaked straight to the skin, his normally fluffy cloud-colored hair plastered to his face, his already form-fitting clothes clinging to every contour of his body, dripping water onto the carpet to leave a dark wet spot where he was standing, a slightly apologetic look in his heavily lashed green eyes.

Yu looked to his sister and made a face. "Well, he can't exactly stay in here like this…"

Ai sighed. "No… hey, Yu, go get that futon in the closet. We can put it on the floor." Turning to Makenshi, she looked him up and down, then crossed her arms. "And you're not sleeping in those wet clothes. I'll go see if I can get a shirt of Dad's or something for you. Just wait here, okay?"

Makenshi gave the two of them a bare shrug. "I'm… sorry. I told you, I would be fine outside…"

But Ai and Yu weren't listening. Both of them were already heading out the door, leaving the swordsman to stand, drip still more rainwater, and examine his surroundings.

The twins' room was relatively spacious from what Makenshi had seen of crowded cities like those of Japan; on one side stood a bunk bed with a bedside table next to it, and on the other lay a wide walk-in closet, the door to which Ai and Yu hadn't bothered to close after fishing out their pajamas. In between bed and closet were various cluttered desks and a few stray plush animals, books, and in one corner, what looked like a long-abandoned toy chest. Makenshi was standing to the side of a woven, ovular rug with an intricate pattern that seemed to be here only for decoration.

Turning back to the bed, Makenshi hazarded a guess that Yu possessed the lower bunk, and his sister the higher. The two mattresses were decked out in green and pink respectively, and a beat-up stuffed dog was perched next to the pillow of the lower bunk.

Footsteps made him turn; Ai was back again, carrying an oversized light green T-shirt just a few shades off of Makenshi's eyes. "I think this should fit," she proclaimed, holding it out to him. "Change—I'll put your clothes out to dry for tomorrow."

Makenshi wondered for one awkward moment if she expected to stand in the room with him as he followed her orders, but once he hesitantly took the shirt, she turned on her heel and walked back outside, closing the door rather loudly behind her.

Holding the shirt up, Makenshi discovered to his relief that it would probably cover him to mid-thigh and wondered where the Hayakawas had gotten it and what they'd used it for, as both of them were several inches shorter than him. Unfastening first his sword belt and then his Mist belt and lying them on the floor, Makenshi set the shirt down, then stripped to the skin, tried to shake the water out of his hair, and began to pull on the T-shirt.

As he was doing so, he heard Yu's voice from beyond the door, too low to discern words. He was able to guess what the boy had been asking or saying, however, as Ai's response was to shout angrily, "You can't go in there! He's changing clothes right now!"

Makenshi shook his head, then surprised himself with a smile. It felt strange, out of place without that underlying tinge of sadness to it; he realized to his dismay that holding a positive expression for that long actually ached, and just like that, the smile twisted with bitterness and vanished.

How long _had _it been since he'd found something amusing enough to crack a smile?

Even more sobering than that thought was the fact that Makenshi was a little afraid of finding the actual answer to that question.

---

Barely had Ai finished berating her brother about nearly walking in on Makenshi when the door opened, revealing that the swordsman was now dressed in their father's old shirt, with his wet clothes wadded up into a ball in his hands.

"I brought the futon," Yu volunteered.

Ai waved something beige in the air. "And here's a towel—you can dry off your hair with this." As she removed Makenshi's clothes from his grasp, she shoved the towel into his hands in its place. "I'll set up the futon—go put these downstairs and then see if there's anything Lisa or Ojisan want, Yu." As the brown-haired boy began to protest his sister's orders, dropping the thin mattress and blankets of the futon he carried, Ai waved a hand and thrust Makenshi's clothes into his now-empty hands. "I need to talk to him about something, anyway."

Yu groaned, but went. As Makenshi toweled off, Ai dragged the futon into her room, closing the door after her before she hauled the mattress up next to the bunk bed, then arranged the blankets and comforter around it. With Makenshi looking on, she walked into the closet, then emerged with two pillows. "Here you go. Hope you don't mind sleeping on the floor."

Makenshi shook his head. "It's fine."

Ai shrugged. "Well, _whatever." _She patted the mattress, indicating for him to sit down, then perched on the ladder that led up to her bunk as he did.

"Chaos destroyed your world thirteen years ago, didn't it?" Ai asked after a brief pause.

Makenshi hesitated a while before answering, then nodded. "…Yes. That was when Kaze and I first came to this world, after all."

"Then you really _don't _have anywhere to go home to," Ai said softly. "What are you going to do when all this is over?"

Makenshi looked at her curiously. "I've never thought about it. Why do you ask?"

Ai shrugged, embarrassed. "Since all this happened with Satomi, I've started thinking about it a lot. Just because we beat Chaos in the end doesn't mean that everything goes back to the way it was. Too much has happened, after all. At least you and Ojisan won't have to fight anymore then, but…"

Makenshi grimaced slightly. "I don't… have any desire to fight him. I never did."

"But you _have _to." It wasn't a question, and both of them knew it. Ai made a face. "Anyway, you lost your world, so Yu and I decided that you could probably stay here if you wanted to."

Makenshi stared at her for a moment, apparently taken off-guard. "You… mean that…?"

"Well, of course! I wouldn't joke about something like that," Ai insisted, feeling almost insulted by his disbelief. "Coming back here made me think about how having a place to go home to makes a big difference when you're fighting against something dangerous. And you don't have that anymore. You lost your friends and family when you lost your world, too, right?"

A brief look of pain crossed Makenshi's face, but he nodded wordlessly.

"Being separated from my parents… and hearing everything that's happened to Clear… I know how much it hurts to not have your family with you," Ai told him. "I don't know if I could stand it if I ever lost Mom and Dad _forever."_

There was a long silence from Makenshi.

"You had a brother, didn't you?"

This time, Makenshi visibly winced, bowing his head to avoid her gaze. "…Yes." There was another silence; just as Ai was about to speak, Makenshi cut her off. "I loved him more than anything. Losing Niisama… almost killed me…"

Ai felt a sharp pang of pain through her chest as she realized that his voice was shaking. Impulsively, she hopped down off the ladder, giving him a fierce hug.

"Look, you're not alone anymore," she scolded into his shoulder. "We're all here for you now. Maybe we're not the family you lost, but we _are _your family now, okay?"

Ai drew back to study him at arm's length, inwardly wincing at the look of shock on his face (how long _had _it been since somebody had shown him a little kindness?), then hugged him again and smiled a little as she felt his hand slowly come to rest on her back.

Giving him one last squeeze, Ai released him, then nodded, smiling at him. "There. The Comodeen are going to be back to pick us up tomorrow, so get some rest, okay?"

Makenshi gave her a small smile, then nodded. "…Thank you."

At that moment, the door opened, and Yu trailed in. "Come on, Sis, it's time for bed already," he told her.

"Yeah, yeah," Ai said, but she climbed back up the ladder and settled into her blankets.

Yu looked from his sister to Makenshi, who was now reclining along the futon the twins had dug out for him, and flicked off the lights in the room, wandering over into bed. "Goodnight, Sis."

"'Night," Ai replied sleepily from the top bunk.

After a moment's pause, Yu added, "Goodnight, Makenshi."

There was another smile in the swordsman's voice as he spoke. "Goodnight."

Though she was tired, Ai couldn't seem to get to sleep just yet. After fidgeting around for a while, she gave up, growling a little at the ceiling. She could hear Yu's breathing below her and knew that he was already dead to the world, so rolling her eyes, she called out softly.

"Hey, Makenshi, are you still awake?"

There was a pause, after which a soft "yes" drifted up to her.

"You think about what I told you, you hear?"

"I will. Go to sleep, Ai."

If anyone else had told her that, Ai probably would've had some stinging retort, but this was Makenshi, and a little voice deep inside her heart told her that she had to be gentle with him, the same as what she'd begun to feel around Clear. And so she didn't say anything, but instead rolled over and proceeded to take his advice.

He was family, after all.

-owari-


	19. Move On

Move On

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy: Unlimited, we all know the drill by now. If I did, After would be an anime already. …Hey, if you're reading this, you'd better go sign the petition already, you know!

**Rating: **T

**Genre: **Drama, romance, angst (in other words, Kumo being emo again)

**Pairings: **Cloudshipping

**Warnings: **Discussion and implications of sex. Also, incestuous yaoi. (Duh.)

If you asked him how he felt about his little brother being so sensitive about anything and everything, most of the time Kiri would say he didn't care. He thought it was cute, actually, and found it refreshing to actually know a guy who wasn't ashamed of being emotional. Kumo was sweet and thoughtful and always considered how other people felt, and it balanced his brother's out-of-control temper _very _well. Kumo's sensitivity was probably the reason their relationship had worked for this long.

Sometimes, though, Kiri had to admit it got to be problematic.

He shifted a little on the mattress, trying to find a more comfortable seat, then instantly reconsidered, cursing inwardly. He should've just stayed still, damn it. There were enough bloodstains on the sheets already, and it would be hard enough getting this mess cleaned up before his parents noticed.

_Both _of the messes—the latest set of linens that he and Kumo had managed to trash, and the fact that Kumo was a total emotional wreck, curled into a ball and crying into his hands, rocking back and forth as Kiri laid a soothing arm over his shoulders. Thankfully, Kumo was actually being pretty quiet, but no matter how much he appreciated his brother's sensitivity, Kiri _hated _seeing Kumo cry.

_And there goes one more of my brilliant plans. _Kiri made a face at himself, fidgeted a little more, and winced as pain shot up the small of his back. _Shit. I really need to learn when things can stand to wait a while._

"Kumo, stop being so hard on yourself," he said aloud, gently turning Kumo towards him and tilting his brother's face up. "It wasn't your fault, okay?"

"But…" Tears swam in those wide green eyes as Kumo's voice shook. "I… I just…"

"The same thing happened with you, too, remember?" Kiri grimaced and shook his head. "Come on, stop beating yourself up about it. This is normal."

"But you're _bleeding," _Kumo protested insistently.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Kiri lied, wondering how Kumo had managed to stand it and keep going back then. Kiri was usually the better of the two of them at handling pain, but he just hadn't been able to cope with feeling his flesh tear so viciously; his body had practically screamed at him _NO MORE, _and he'd had to tell Kumo to stop. Kiri's back prickled in embarrassment; he'd been hurt much worse than this before, he knew.

Just not _there._

Which seemed to make a lot more difference than Kiri would have thought.

Kumo gave him a reproachful glare through the tears. "Niisama, don't say that when you don't mean it. We never should have tried this. Things were fine the way they were."

Kiri fixed the white-haired young boy with his most jaundiced you-listen-to-your-older-brother glare. "They were _not _fine, and you know it. You're too submissive, Kumo—we've been sleeping together for almost a year now, and you never ask for anything, never complain, and _always _do whatever I tell you. That isn't healthy, and we both know it."

"But I don't _mind _that, Niisama," Kumo protested.

"Don't act like that," Kiri replied tiredly, shoving his hair out of his face. "You weren't so opposed to the idea when I brought it up before. We agreed that it would be good for both of us to switch every now and then."

Kumo shook his head stubbornly, causing fresh tears to run down his face. "I don't want to do this if it means I have to hurt you. _No."_

The redhead ran his fingers through his hair again and sighed. "Kumo, please listen to me. Will you do me that, at least?" As he watched patiently, Kumo hesitated, then nodded, still trembling a little. "I suggested this _knowing _that it was going to be painful for me, and that I would probably bleed, the same way you did. I know that makes you feel like you want to apologize, but the blame should really be with me, because I guess I underestimated how much it would actually hurt." Kiri paused for a moment, carefully examining his brother's expression. "I think _I'm _the one who should be apologizing… I shouldn't have asked you to stop."

"But…" Kumo protested, almost pleading, still looking anguished. "But even if you hadn't… I still would've! If I'd kept going, I just would've ended up hurting you worse!"

Kiri gave his brother a smile that was half-grimace. "Yeah, you probably _would have_ stopped anyway." He tousled Kumo's soft hair, then leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Still… I don't want you beating yourself up about this. So we didn't take this seriously enough. It's not the first time we've made mistakes in bed, and it probably won't be the last. That's what happens when you're playing the whole thing by ear like we do." Kiri's grimace deepened. "Besides, I've definitely screwed up worse than this, and hurt us both much more seriously. But you've forgiven me every single time."

"It wasn't your fault, Niisama," Kumo protested.

Kiri shook his head, his expression twisting into a wry smile. "There, you see what I mean?" He brushed Kumo's tears away, taking hold of his young lover's shoulders. "I guess my point is… don't let yourself get so hung up on this. Of course you feel bad about it, but you have to move on sooner or later. There'll be other nights, other chances to get it right or screw it up worse. That's the point of experimenting, isn't it? It could go either way, but neither you or I can know which until we try."

Kumo looked up at him with a watery smile. "Okay…" He blinked, his lovely eyes earnest and imploring. "You can tell me the truth, now, Niisama… how bad is it _really?"_

Kiri sighed, then forced a grin. "Hurts like a bitch, Kumo. But not so much as before." _Really, it isn't _that _bad, _he thought to himself, though between the searing ache and the ribbons of blood still making their way down Kiri's bare thighs, his body begged to differ. …_I'm really going to hate myself for this in the morning, but right now, getting Kumo's self-confidence back is much more important. _Bracing himself, he flopped back down onto the mattress, pulling his brother along with him.

"Niisama, what are you…?" Kumo cried almost plaintively, but Kiri reached up and silenced him with a fingertip to his lips.

"Like I said, this is important," Kiri said with a patient smile. "It might hurt me for a while, but the blood will actually make it easier for both of us. Just be careful, and start slow." Seeing the expression of mixed worry and incredulity on Kumo's face, Kiri pulled their bodies even closer together, letting bare skin slide across bare skin and promising himself a long, soothing bath tomorrow to ease the hurt this was going to cause. It would be worth it eventually.

Hell, when it came down to it, he might even get to like this.

"But don't you think… tomorrow would be…?" Kumo attempted, though Kiri held him too firmly for any chance of escape.

"Finish what you started," Kiri breathed, and pulled Kumo down into a kiss.

"There _is _such a thing as moving on _too fast, _Niisama," Kumo managed to get out, pulling back to steal a breath of air.

Kiri waved a hand in the air absently. It was already too late for Kumo to be protesting, and both of them knew it. "Stop stalling already and do it," he directed, squeezing Kumo's hips between the insides of his thighs.

It hurt every bit as badly as Kiri thought it would.

But once the pain passed, he also discovered that it was a lot more fun to be on the receiving end of things than he'd expected.

And even better than that was the enraptured wonder and gratitude on Kumo's face, and the fresh tears in his eyes as he discovered the glory of climax from the other side—because that was what this whole thing had been about, after all.

As their bodies came apart and then folded together out of exhaustion, that was the thought Kiri held on to through the heavy waves of impending sleep.

The plan had worked, after all.

:owari:


	20. War for Two

War for Two

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy: Unlimited, and I guess I don't own this particular situation either. Considering that it's been used in several anime and manga so far. But, hey, it's a good one to use, right?

**Rating: **T

**Genre: **Drama

**Pairings: **Hinted Cloudshipping

**Warnings: **Spoilers for Before and After, I guess, at least regarding the war between Windaria and Mystaria. Blood and violence. Aura swearing (what else is new?).

Aura crouched behind the boulder, her palms sweaty against the stocks of her guns. This would happen now, with her luck—seeing the battleground ahead of her cleared, she'd sent her moogle partner Pepo back to the nearest fort to get her some more bullets, since she only had the four rounds in her revolvers, twenty-four bullets in all, which she could spend in about five minutes. And just after he'd left, she'd heard something stirring in the distance.

_Sneaky Mystarian bastards, _she growled to herself. _Hiding to save your own skins, as usual._

The footsteps were getting closer against the stone floor of the half-decimated canyon. Aura gritted her teeth and edged closer to the side of her boulder. She would really only have one shot at this.

Once she judged that the steps were sufficiently close, she dove…

Just as a flash of red knocked both guns out of her hands and slammed her hard into the ground.

Through the shock of impact, Aura cursed herself, trying to flatten herself against the hard stone to edge away from the red blade at her throat. Her adversary had her pinned, between the sword and the arch of his body over hers. His free hand grasped her shoulder, keeping her from trying to struggle, and the hard, decisive look in his demonic crimson eyes was enough to hold her still anyway.

_Shit. There's nothing I can do… but if I don't get away I'm gonna die here…_

"Hey…" His eyes suddenly widened, and he sat up, pulling his sword away. His voice was suspicious, even accusatory, as he frowned at her. "You're a _girl."_

Aura bristled even as she edged up on her elbows, touching her throat to see if he'd nicked her. "And just what is _that _supposed to mean?" she demanded, unable to keep the edge of suspicious worry out of her voice.

As she stared up at him, the red-haired Mystarian blanched, then blushed violently. "That's not what I meant! It's you Windarians who seem to think that raping defeated warriors and captured civilians is a great shock tactic!" He scowled back at her, clipping his sword to the back of his belt and crossing his arms. "I don't kill girls."

Aura scooted back and sat up, glaring at him incredulously. "That is probably the most _sexist _thing I have ever heard! And how the hell am I supposed to believe anything a _Mystarian _tells me?"

The Mystarian rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, then held up a finger. "One, I actually happen to have _morals, _unlike you Windarians." He held up another. "Two, even if I was planning on doing something like _that _to you, I wouldn't be able to."

Aura snorted, suspicious. "Why not? You a eunuch or something?"

He narrowed his eyes, his blush deepening. _"No! _Like hell! I'm gay, you idiot!"

Aura blinked, confounded. Now what was she supposed to say to something like _that?_

The Mystarian stood up, brushing canyon dust off his clothes. "Anyway, I also happen to believe in honor. I've never killed a woman, and I never plan to. And if I'd known you _were _a girl, I would never have tackled you like that. I heard you, but I didn't see you. So, I'm sorry about that." He shook his head. "Better get back to your friends, Miss Windarian." And with an offhand wave, he turned around and started walking back up the trail. "See you around."

Hot fury welled up in Aura's chest as she clenched her fists. How _dare _he!

There was no way in _hell _she was going to let any man as impudent and arrogant as _this _one get away with treating her like this, _especially _not when he was a Mystarian!

The single gunshot rang through the canyon with the force of an explosion. The Mystarian's soft gasp was nearly lost in the echoes as his body jerked, then crumpled, his form a shaking tangle of red along the sandy golden stone of the canyon floor.

Aura walked towards him, her gun still smoking, and kicked at him with the toe of her right shoe. "You shouldn't have underestimated me," she said softly, deadly anger in her voice. "You should never turn your back on your enemy, you fool."

The Mystarian barked out a laugh as he clutched futilely at the bullet hole through his belly, turning his head a little to regard her out of eyes hazed with pain. His blood was already spreading in a dark pool beneath his body, with bright rivulets tracing over his hand and a burgundy stain creeping across his red shirt. "This is what I get for sparing your life," he said with a rueful, mocking smile, his voice seized with agony. "You have no honor."

Despite herself, Aura felt her face flush. "This is a _war, _you moron! What the hell do you expect from your enemy? You high-minded bastard, if you didn't want to get shot then you shouldn't have walked away!"

But as she took aim to finish the job, the Mystarian laughed again. His voice was already much weaker, and seemed much more bitter. "Heh… sorry, Kumo. I guess I won't be coming home this time…"

With that, he seemed to fall unconscious, sliding to lie completely unresisting against the hard stone. Aura realized with a jolt that despite his proud countenance, he actually seemed to be the same age as her.

And she found that despite the fact that she _knew _she had to, she couldn't pull the trigger.

Aura sighed, holstered her gun, and knelt down beside the Mystarian. His face was ashen and his breathing labored; he was still losing blood rapidly, and though the bullet had gone clean through his body, there was little chance of his recovering from a gut shot on his own. It really would be kinder to just shoot him and get it over with.

But she still _couldn't._

Aura made a face at him, disgruntled at having emotions she thought she'd long since left behind unearthed in her heart. She didn't want to care about someone who was still her enemy, didn't want to pity him, didn't want to wonder why he'd sounded so regretful when he'd last spoken, addressing someone who wasn't there. But she knew that if she let him die here, she would hate herself for it forever.

Even after all the enemies she'd slain since the war began, she didn't want this man's blood on her hands.

Disgusted with herself, Aura unceremoniously hauled him up, then threw his long body over her shoulder. This canyon was riddled with grottoes; all she had to do was choose one they could both fit into comfortably.

She _really _had no idea why she was bothering. He'd probably be dead in an hour, anyway.

---

The Mystarian let out a low groan and opened his eyes, slowly taking in his surroundings with no small amount of confusion. When his gaze finally settled on Aura, he stared at her for a moment, his brow creased with concentration as he struggled to remember how he'd gotten there.

She just looked back at him over the tiny fire she'd built to keep the grotto warm through the night's chill, which she knew could be deathly to his kind once they were wounded. "Well, you're an interesting one, and no mistake," she informed him. "Most Mystarians in your position would have died long ago."

The Mystarian looked down at himself, seeing the bandages wrapped tightly around his waist, then back up at Aura, confusion replaced by surprise.

"Either you're damn lucky, or I'm better at treating gunshot wounds than I thought," Aura continued. "You really must not want to die."

This time, the Mystarian laughed. "I'm not sure whether or not I should thank you for doing this or hate you for shooting me in the back in the first place."

"Neither is fine." Aura glared at him over the flames. "Although that was your own fault. You're too soft to be a real fighter. You should just go home after this."

For some reason, the Mystarian seemed to find that funny. "You have no idea who I am, do you?"

"No, and I don't care. You're my enemy, and that's enough." Aura picked up a stick from the pile next to her and tossed it onto the fire, sending a shower of sparks in all directions.

The Mystarian eased back onto the hard stone. "Well, suffice it to say that if you weren't a girl, you wouldn't be here talking to me now."

Aura snorted, but didn't say anything, just watched him. He seemed tired, and his breathing was still uneven, which wasn't really surprising, considering the amount of blood he'd lost before she'd packed both sides of his wound with herbs cultivated to stanch its flow as they drew out traces of gunpowder or Soil that might still be in his body, which would fester if left in a Mystarian's flesh. He'd been damned lucky that she'd been carrying those with her; she didn't usually keep first aid supplies with her, but before Pepo had left for more ammo, he'd insisted on leaving their supply with her just in case. For once, it had paid to listen to the obnoxious little moogle.

As the Mystarian's breathing began to steady, Aura scowled. "Don't you go to sleep," she warned. "If you do, you'll probably die, and I won't notice. Stay awake and talk."

The Mystarian opened one eye to consider her with a smoldering stare. "I'll be fine. I've been hurt worse than this before."

Aura just looked at him. "Yeah, I saw your scars when I was fixing you up earlier. It doesn't matter—a gunshot wound's a gunshot wound, and no matter how many of them you've already had, you can still die from one out here." He didn't reply, but it didn't look like he was going back to sleep, either. Aura crossed her arms and looked at him curiously. "So, why are you so against killing women, anyway?"

The Mystarian smiled wryly. "It's not out of sexism, believe me. There are just as many women warriors as there are men in my world, and my mother is one of them." He shifted, then looked at her. "It's just that, you know… if you were one of us, you could already have a family by now. If you had children, or a husband, how could I take you from them like that?"

Aura scowled. "But you have no qualms about taking husbands away from their wives. Besides, I'm too young to get married, you idiot."

"In Mystaria, it's legal to enter a life-bond when you're sixteen," the Mystarian told her, and closed his eyes again with a sigh. "That doesn't matter. Mothers are sacred. I will never kill a woman."

He lapsed into silence once again, and only the erratic rise and fall of his chest told Aura that he was awake and alive.

She was a little surprised to hear that sentiment out of a Mystarian, the dark angels of death who seemed to be fighting for nothing short of the total destruction of Windaria. Still, she supposed that there, like in her world, people still held different values. Maybe this one just wasn't as bad as the rest.

It was a new idea, and it was a little disturbing. Like the Mystarian's accusations towards her people, it was something that Aura decided she didn't want to think about that much.

"Who's Kumo?" she asked suddenly.

The Mystarian opened his eyes and stared at her, surprised.

"I've heard people apologizing to the ones they love on the battlefield a lot, but they usually don't mention anyone by name." Aura gave him a sidelong look. "And I've never heard a Mystarian sound like you did."

The Mystarian sighed, looking depressed. "Kumo is… he's my little brother," he said softly. "We promised we would meet again after I was done with my duties here… he has his own task to accomplish, and it's something I couldn't accompany him for. It's the first time we've been apart for this long… and I have no idea what's been happening with him since. Still, I intend on keeping my promise."

"He's that important to you?" Aura asked.

The Mystarian glanced at her, then away. "If you had a little brother, you'd understand."

"I _do _have a brother—an older brother," Aura confessed. "But I haven't seen him for years. He's fighting on the front lines… somewhere."

"Do you miss him?"

"Of course I do," Aura snapped, stung. "That's the whole reason I'm out here! I'm going to find him out there, someday soon." There was a long silence. "What I _meant _was that you don't usually get people apologizing to their little brothers when they think they're going to die in the war. Don't you have a boyfriend or something who you'd want to hear your last words?"

The Mystarian gave her a jaundiced look. "He's my fiancé."

Aura stared at him. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

He closed his eyes and turned his face back towards the ceiling. "I'm not going to die. He'll be waiting for me there. So I'm not going to die. I promised him, after all."

_I have no idea whether that's twisted or sweet, _Aura thought to herself, shaking her head. "You people must be even more barbaric than we thought."

"Look who's talking." The Mystarian's voice was haughty, dripping with scorn. "Windarian shock troops destroy our villages, kill our civilians, rape the survivors—men, women, and children, it doesn't matter—and desecrate the bodies. I've seen Windarian generals who've tortured my people to within inches of their lives, then finished them off by breaking off their horns. They keep them as _trophies, _and brag about how many they have. It would be the same as one of us keeping jars upon jars of Windarian hearts on display. _That _is barbaric."

Aura knew it was true, but she still felt disgust roil through her. "Alright, so maybe some Windarians do stuff like that. And I can name twenty-five Windarian cities off the top of my head that have been leveled straight to the ground by your 'honorable' warriors. Everyone who lived there, dead. Nothing left, not even a single trace of the bodies. At least we're humane enough to _leave _survivors."

"We're defending our world," the Mystarian told her.

"Well, we're defending ours."

There was a long and bitter silence in which the two of them glared at each other.

"And if all Windarians were as bad as all that, nothing would stop me from doing those things to you, instead of saving you like I did," Aura pointed out. "Think about that next time, Mystarian."

He closed his eyes. "Kiri."

"What?"

"Stop calling me 'Mystarian'. My name is Kiri."

Before Aura could think of a response, the even rise and fall of his chest told her that he'd fallen asleep.

---

Despite all of Aura's experience with wounded Mystarians, Kiri didn't show any signs of dying. Instead, he slept the rest of the night, with absolutely no signs of giving in to the severity of his wound. From what she could tell, Kiri's survival _was _actually born of his pigheaded determination to live.

As he'd said, he had a promise to keep, and from the looks of things, he was going to be keeping it.

Kiri woke again that morning in much better shape than Aura would have believed possible, and proved it by sitting up, pulling a diamond-shaped flask from its slot in his belt and drinking from it.

"You've lost way too much blood to be doing that," she grumbled, giving him a suspicious glare.

Kiri slipped the flask back to the end of the row of bottles on his belt. "Like I said before, I'm used to being hurt. And I know from experience that I'm well enough to get back to my people now."

Aura rolled her eyes. "Well, that's good news. My partner's going to have my head if I keep him waiting any longer. And I guess you have to get back to your fiancé, right? So go on, get out of my hair already."

Kiri looked at her in surprise, then smiled wryly. "If you say so." Very carefully, he stood up. "Still… I don't think I would've lasted the night if you hadn't taken me in here and treated my wound. Thank you."

Aura just glared at him, crossing her arms. "Don't thank me. If we meet in battle after today, I won't hesitate to kill you, you know."

Kiri's smile widened a little. "I'll make sure I remember not to turn my back on you." As he headed out of the grotto with Aura behind him, he shrugged slightly. "You know, you're not that bad, for a Windarian."

"Funny, last night I was thinking the same kind of thing about you," Aura retorted. "Take my advice, once you get back to your brother, stay with him. Forget fighting. You're still way too soft."

"I wish I could," Kiri replied with feeling. "I hate this war, but it's not something I can turn away from."

"What, you a lover, not a fighter?" Aura asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I'm a _swordsman," _Kiri told her. "And that makes me both." Out in the open now, the two of them faced each other. "I hope for both of our sakes that we _don't _meet again. And I hope that you find your brother soon."

Aura sighed. "And I hope you get back to yours. Now go on—if my partner finds you here, he might end up trying to kill you, and I don't want to have to explain this whole thing to him. He'll have a conniption fit."

Kiri nodded. "Alright, then. Goodbye." And he turned, beginning to walk away.

Aura bit her lip, then called out. "Wait…"

Kiri halted, looking over his shoulder.

"You told me your name, but I never told you mine. It's Aura. Aura Hougekiju."

Kiri considered her for a moment, then smiled. "Aura. I'll remember it."

"Watch your ass out there," Aura told him. "War turns us all into barbarians, after all."

Kiri nodded. "You watch yours, too."

"I always do." Aura grimaced. "Now go on, get out of here."

Kiri dipped a graceful bow to her. "Goodbye." And he took a few graceful steps forward, then sprang into the air, a sharp bolt of crimson soaring through the sky.

Shading her eyes, Aura watched him until he was out of sight. Once he was gone, she turned and headed back towards where she knew Pepo would be waiting for her, working up a fine temper as usual.

Though she would bury the encounter in her heart, she wouldn't let herself forget what she'd learned that night, in the face of all the ugliness of the days ahead.

She and Kiri would never meet again.

:owari:


	21. 21 Candles

21 Candles

DISCLAIMER: Roses are red, violets are blue, I don't own, so you don't sue. But mark my words, my muses will eat you alive if you don't join Worlds and sign the After petition. Rawr.

Rating: T for various reasons

Genre: Drama/Humor

Pairings: Frogshipping (wewt!)

Warnings: Mild After spoilers, crabby Miles, and some brief, mild, fan-service-ish nudity for which you will most likely thank me (smirk)

Miles woke up with the day's date engraved in her mind as though it had just been branded there, and a grim certainty that it was going to be one of those days.

Somehow, it was _always _one of those days.

For a moment, Miles was tempted to just roll over, put her pillow firmly over her head, and go right back to sleep, keeping herself as removed from the day as she possibly could. But, really, that would just be delaying the inevitable, and Miles would be _damned _if she was going to let her knowledge that today was not going to be happy scare her into hiding in bed.

So she sat up in her bunk, tried to finger-comb her spiky purple hair into some semblance of order, rubbed tiredness out of her eyes, and clambered down the ladder to the floor.

Looking over at the bunk beneath the one she'd been sleeping in, she realized that her roommate, Lisa, was already up and out, probably down in the mess hall already. It was typical of her, and it was a relief to Miles, since she wouldn't be required to pretend that everything was perfectly normal until she ran into people.

Miles scowled at the calendar tacked up on the wall, then at her reflection in the mirror beside it as she struggled out of her sleepshirt and into her fatigues, boots, and hooded halter top. Giving her hair one more finger-combing before slipping on her headband, Miles gave herself a resigned stare, peering into the mirror for any imperfections or telltale signs of distress. She couldn't see any, and so with a short sigh, she headed out into the halls.

The corridors riddled through Silvia the airship's frame were bustling as usual. Miles personally thought that it was practically sinful for her comrades to be so appallingly _lively _at this hour (it was midmorning, but industrious as she could be, Miles was most active at night, and tended to be rather groggy and irritable until noon most days), but that was the way that Knave tended to run things.

Miles shook her head as she stepped out of the way of a few Comodeen officers who were talking animatedly back and forth over a wide roll of paper. Knave had been her steadfast friend ever since the two of them had first met back in Wonderland, and as the second in command of his resistance movement, she'd learned to put up with most of the carrot-top's eccentricities, but Knave's whole early-morning thing never ceased to drive her up the wall.

As she probably should've expected, Miles found the mess hall to be utterly packed; though many Comodeen members were still outside, just about everyone else seemed to be down here. And they were all so _cheerful. _Miles fought down the urge to twitch. They were so _loud_ when they were cheerful.

Spotting open seats near the end of the table where Lisa and the Hayakawa twins were situated, Miles grabbed a tray of food and edged through the chattering masses towards them.

As she did so, Miles grimaced as she realized what was on the menu. _Potatoes and seaweed paste, _again. _I would kill for barbecued newt just once in the next few months. Or even a snake or two. I would settle for snake._

But then again, given her druthers, Miles would most definitely rather still be sleeping. And it wasn't like the same old, same old on the menu was really going to hurt.

…Not _that _much, anyway.

"Good morning, Miles," Lisa called with a slight dip of her head and a smile; Miles couldn't help smiling in return. Lisa had enough on her plate right now without having to worry about her allies—Miles resolved to make a conscious effort towards letting Lisa's kindness despite her own problems help her today.

"How are you holding up?" Miles asked as she set down her tray, then sat on the bench, propping her face in her hands.

Lisa shook her head. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

"That's what you always say," Miles said, shaking her head, promptly forgetting the fact that she herself was pulling a Lisa today. "Well, even if you're not particularly inclined to accept it, we're here to help, too."

Lisa's smile spread, growing wavery. "Thank you."

Miles waved a hand, ate a spoonful of mashed potatoes, and fought the urge to make a face. Man, she was _really _getting to hate having to eat this stuff all the time. It was _seriously _getting old.

"I can't believe we have to eat these potatoes _again," _Ai said suddenly from next to Lisa, crossing her arms. "Can't Cid's machines make anything _else?"_

"Calm down, Sis," Yu told her, patting her shoulder. "At least we've still got a lot of this stuff. You know Silvia hasn't been able to land for a while, what with everything that's been going on down on the ground."

Ai puffed out her cheek. "But _still!"_

Fungo, seated next to Miles, had already cleaned his plate, and offered the twins a big smile. "It's not that bad, you know."

"Of course it's not bad for _you! _You eat _everything!" _Ai snapped, glaring. "You know we've got plenty of _food, _but because of you, we're running out of _plates!"_

Fungo just laughed, which made Ai sulk even worse.

Miles sighed, massaging her temples. Of course today had to start out with yet another argument between the kids on board. Normally, she had no objection to the small people getting underfoot—after the Comodeen had taken Fungo in, he'd basically become a baby brother to her—but at times like this, they could really drive her insane.

"Stop arguing," Clear, on Fungo's other side, suddenly cajoled. "Really, we should just be happy for what we have, shouldn't we?"

Ai sighed, still looking a little bit disgruntled though most of her anger had been defused. "…Yeah, I guess you're right."

Miles gave Clear a grateful glance from the corner of her eye. She didn't know the boy very well yet, but from what she'd seen so far, he was so quiet and pacific that no onlooker would have any idea that he was the heart of the beast of destruction Omega unless they'd been told so beforehand. And given his temperament, sometimes even she would've had trouble believing it unless she hadn't known very well that the finely tailored suit and veil the boy wore were made from Flying Water, which served to subdue and control Omega's powers. (Of course she knew—she'd been the one to _make _them, with a little help from Cid.)

Managing to choke down another spoonful of potatoes, Miles turned to the kids. "Have any of you seen Cid anywhere today?"

Ai, Clear, and Fungo all shook their heads, but Yu nodded. "Yeah, he said he was going to be working on something secret today, so he's in his workroom right now. Somebody else will be doing the piloting today."

Miles drooped, not caring that everyone was giving her questioning looks. Well, there went the one bright spot in her day. God_damn_it. She'd just _known _this day was going to be crappy.

"…Are you okay…?" Lisa ventured.

"Don't worry about it," Miles said gloomily, waving a hand. Well, the least she could do was hope that she would be relatively unbothered so that she could mope in peace and quiet for the rest of today.

"Ah, _there _you are, Miles." She glanced up—it was Knave. "I've been looking for you."

"Good morning to you too," Miles said with a sigh.

"Come on, don't look like that. Anyway, you were with the rest of us at that meeting last week—do _you _have any idea where Tomioka might have put the stenographer's records? No one can find them anywhere, and that's the only record we have of the new plans for the update to the weapons system."

Miles sighed. "Doesn't Cid have the blueprints? Just ask _him."_

Knave just looked at her. "They're in Cid's workroom. You know that we're all under express orders not to go anywhere near Cid's workroom when he's busy there."

Groaning, Miles pushed back her tray. "Fine, fine. I get it. I'll help you look, already."

"Don't you want to finish eating first?" Yu asked her.

"No… Fungo can have it. I'll be fine. Let's go, then, Knave."

---

As a rule, nothing ever came easy for Miles on this particular day of the year. Everything was either annoyingly difficult, or unbearably boring.

So finding the missing stenographer's reports took two and a half hours of poking around every corner of Silvia's storage hold, shining flashlights into every cobwebby corner, and crawling around over painfully high stacks of crates… only to have one Comodeen member finally venture that he thought he'd seen the papers in a pile on Knave's desk earlier that morning.

And, sure enough, once they'd headed up to Knave's quarters to check, there they were.

What a waste of a morning. Go figure.

But before Miles could slink off to her rooms, hoping it wasn't too late to catch a little bit of shuteye and so escape a few hours of this awful day, a few Comodeen officials approached her with the job of going through the inventory. With no excuses, Miles wound up dragooned into the activity… and despite her best efforts to retreat afterwards, she was then called upon to help Lisa settle a dispute between the twins over whose turn it was to take the top bunk in the room they shared.

By lunchtime, Miles had a vicious backache and an impending temper explosion to add to her still-roaring headache and the itching need to crawl back into bed until tomorrow. To make matters worse, lunch was potatoes _again, _though this time they were served with instant noodles as a side dish.

And, predictably, she'd barely gotten halfway through her well-deserved (if ill-received) meal when a few Comodeen members came up to her with another complaint of something gone wrong: Test runs of the new version of Silvia's main cannon showed that there were a few bugs in the system, and someone was needed to puzzle out the malfunction.

"Look, why not go to _Cid _about all this?" Miles asked them with a groan.

"He's still working, ma'am," was the response.

Miles sighed and headslumped, barely avoiding going face first into her plate. "Fine… fine… but can I at least take a shower first…? Today's been really busy…"

The Comodeen members agreed that this seemed fair, if only to escape a famed Miles explosion over the issue. They could tell she wasn't in a good mood by now.

Feet dragging, Miles finally escaped to the relative safety of the shower rooms, making sure to lock the door securely before she turned the hot water on and stripped down to stand under its spray.

_It never fails, _Miles thought bitterly to herself. _Every year on this same day, it's like I'm being punished for a few lifetimes' worth of bad karma. Nine years ago today I woke up one big mass of cramps with bloody sheets. Seven years ago today our world entered a losing war with Chaos. Five years ago today…_

_Five years ago today, I woke up in Wonderland to find out that my world had been destroyed…_

Miles scowled into the hot water, then sighed and soaped her hair vigorously, taking a deep breath of the steamy air. Well, nothing _too_ cataclysmic had happened yet. She ought to count herself lucky, going by that standard. If "lucky" could be applied to her at all today, that is.

Hearing an unfamiliar sound from the room next door, Miles frowned and turned the water down for a moment, then realized what it was and smiled crookedly. Obviously, somebody else was taking a shower in one of these rooms, too—she could just hear somebody singing over the steady drone of the water, though she couldn't make out words. It was nice, though, to hear that pure, rather lovely alto voice soaring through the unfamiliar melody it sang, since it had been a while since Miles had heard someone singing in the shower. Most of the Comodeen didn't go for that kind of thing, of which she was glad—most of them, especially Knave, had no singing voices to speak of, and she heartily believed that no soul should have to suffer through their caterwauling, no matter _what _they'd done.

…Except maybe Chaos, but then, that was a whole other matter unto itself.

Maybe it was Yu or Clear, although Miles was vaguely sure that she'd seen them running around in Silvia's halls before she'd managed to get in here. Oh, well. They didn't really seem to be sing-in-the-shower boys either. The way things looked now, she might never know, but it was enough to hear something pretty and get a brighter outlook on her situation. After all, she'd survived half the day already. That was a big accomplishment in itself.

With a sigh, Miles turned the water off and reached for her towel. Who was she kidding? The rest of the day would be crappy, too—it always was. Still, it would be over soon enough. She could at least stop moping and resign herself to it, since it obviously wasn't going to change anytime soon.

Besides, she still had a job to do.

Miles put her clothes back on and stepped outside, still toweling her hair off. Turning right, she began to head back towards the bridge to do a test run of the weapons system and see just what was wrong with it—and promptly collided with someone.

Instead of just the embarrassing little bump that usually occurred when two people knocked into each other in these halls and the awkward apologies that followed, however, Miles and whoever she'd run into fell over with a sharp, almost sickening crack as the person's head hit the steel floors and his sharp cry of pain.

Disoriented, Miles sat up, shook her head, and opened her eyes—then did a double-take, flinching back a little further.

_Could this day _possibly _get _any _worse? _she wondered to herself, anguished, as she looked him over.

He lay sprawled on his back, unmoving, his eyes still tightly closed and that pained expression lingering over his features. Like her, he had apparently just gotten out of the shower, and had had the misfortune of choosing to walk in exactly the opposite direction she had, which had wound up causing their collision. Unlike her, he'd chosen not to get dressed, and his clothes, which he'd apparently been carrying under his arm, were now scattered across the hall; there'd been a towel loosely wrapped around his waist, which had come undone and had slipped considerably, though it still miraculously covered the necessities.

And somehow, despite how long Miles had just sat gawking at him, Makenshi wasn't moving.

Backing up and then kneeling at his side, Miles bit her lip. _I hope I didn't manage to knock him out… _Tentatively setting a hand on his shoulder, she shook him very gently. "Hey, are you okay?"

Finally, a response: Makenshi let out a very soft moan and opened his eyes, looking up at her with a confused expression. However, there was something strange about his gaze—for some reason, his eyes looked almost unfocused. "……Miles…?"

Miles sighed. "Look, I'm really sorry about that… do you think you can sit up? You hit your head on that thing pretty hard…"

Very slowly, Makenshi did—then hunched over with another moan, putting a hand to his forehead with fingers curled in like claws. "…Why…?"

With a bitter grimace, Miles put her arm around his shoulders. "I'm sorry. That must really hurt… but do you think you can stand? I don't really want to move you too much after you cracked your head like that, but you can't just stay in the hall like this, okay?"

Silence from Makenshi. As Miles continued to watch him, though, he lowered his head in the minutest of nods, though even that tiny motion made him wince.

"Okay. Here, let me help you up…" Miles stood, holding out a hand to him. Makenshi looked up at her for a moment, then took it, struggling towards a standing position.

Unfortunately, Miles had been too busy worrying about Makenshi's ability to get up to remember his towel… until it slipped off his waist entirely, just moments before the swordsman staggered and collapsed against Miles, sending them both back down to the floor.

"I… I'm sorry…" Makenshi managed to say in a voice so soft that Miles almost couldn't hear his words. He'd landed practically in her lap, and was curled on his side facing away from her, his body trembling slightly.

"Um… it's not your fault, _really…" _Miles replied, trying her hardest not to stare. _This is not good… I am sitting in a public hallway with a naked man halfway on my lap, and for whatever stupid reason I can't seem to keep my eyes off his… gah… this really isn't good! _"Hey, um… do you feel dizzy at all? Is that why you can't stand?"

"…A little bit…"

"Crap." Making sure that her eyes _stayed _where they were supposed to be, Miles put a hand on Makenshi's shoulder. "Okay, I think you might have a concussion or something from the first time you fell, 'cause you hit your head _really _hard. This isn't gonna be easy, but I need you to walk with me so that we can get you back to your room. We'll take it slow, so it doesn't hurt your head too much. Just let me…" Very carefully, Miles eased him onto the floor, then gathered up his clothes from where they lay all over the hallway. As an afterthought, she grabbed his towel, then held it out to him. "But, uh, do you think that maybe you could put this back on first…?"

"…?" Makenshi opened his eyes, staring for a moment until he realized what she was holding. _"Oh!" _Blushing a violent scarlet, he took the towel and clumsily wrapped it back around his waist, tying it there with shaking hands. "…Oh, God…" Getting even redder, he covered his face with both hands, shaking even worse out of embarrassment.

Miles waited a moment for him to regain his composure, cringing a little in sympathy. "Are you ready to try getting up now?"

"…Alright…" With aching slowness, the two of them managed to get into an upright position, with Miles' arm wrapped tightly around Makenshi's waist and his over her shoulders, his fingers tightly clutching the fabric of her shirt. Pausing after every step, the two of them managed to get to Makenshi's room in about twice the time it usually took to get there.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Miles closed the door tightly behind them, maneuvering the swordsman over to his bed and holding out his clothes to him. "Um… do you think you could try to put some of this back on before you lie down? I'm gonna have to send down a doctor to take a look at you later, and we both know that towel isn't gonna stay forever."

Makenshi held out his hands for his clothes, slowly turning mostly away from her. Miles did the same, although she still glanced over her shoulder a little bit to make sure she'd see it if he started to falter.

After slipping off the towel (Miles tried desperately to keep her eyes away from his bare hips and failed miserably), Makenshi very gingerly stepped into underwear (which, thankfully, Miles _did _manage not to look at), then pants, before having to sit on the bed, holding his head in his hands.

"Okay, that's fine," Miles said, more out of pity than anything else (half-naked Makenshi still equaled an avid stare from her, after all). "Lie down, now."

He did so; she pulled a chair to his bedside from next to the door and sat watching him as he stared up at the ceiling.

"I really am sorry about all this," Miles told him. "I should've been looking…"

"It's alright," was his reply. "I wasn't paying attention, either."

Awkward silence.

"Hey… is it okay if I ask you something?" she ventured.

Makenshi said nothing, but gestured in the air that he didn't mind.

"Are all these scars from fighting Kaze?" Miles pointed to the faint brown and pink lines that traced over the pale skin of Makenshi's chest. "These look as though they really must've hurt. Poor thing."

"No… not all." Makenshi didn't turn his head to face her, but he looked towards her anyway. "Some were from training, long ago." He placed his hand on the thin, narrow whorl of fresh scar tissue just above his navel. "You know where this one is from."

Miles grimaced. "Yeah, I was there when that got stitched up." And she'd heard the story from Lisa, after they'd all met up again in this world. That was where the Earl, the old manifestation of Chaos, had speared him on his own sword, nearly killing him. Though Makenshi's other scars were already half-faded, this one was still vivid, and might remain so for years.

Makenshi sighed, closed his eyes, and then traced one long scar like a scratch that started an inch or so below his collarbones, then curved dangerously close to his left nipple. "And some of them… like this one here… some of them are from Chaos."

Not for the first time, Miles wondered about the full extent of what Makenshi had suffered at the hands of that awful creature. And not for the first time, Miles didn't ask. Some stories, she knew, were best left untold… and besides, she had the idea well enough without his telling her, so she didn't need to drag it from him until he was ready.

"It doesn't matter that much, though. After you've spent as long at Gaudium as I have, you get… desensitized to feeling pain," Makenshi said at length. "Scars fade in time. Memories don't. Eventually, that's all they can use to hurt you."

Remembering a certain field of clouds and the red-clad young man who had been there, Miles grimaced and—without thinking—softly ruffled Makenshi's hair.

He flinched; Miles yanked her hand away and kicked the bedside table. "Damn it, I _knew _I should've just locked myself in the damn bedroom and slept today! It's bad enough that this happens every single year, but now I end up hurting _other _people, too?"

Makenshi blinked, giving her a bewildered look. "What is it?"

Miles sighed and shook her head. "…Today's my twenty-first birthday." She made a face. "And don't you dare wish me a happy one. All my birthdays suck. Every single one of them has been unlucky so far, and usually anything bad or annoying that can happen _does. _Every damn year, without fail, something like this happens today.

"Nobody in the Comodeen knows what today is. Since I got to Wonderland I haven't told anyone, except you… maybe in hopes that that way I won't end up inflicting my bad luck on them." Miles grimaced. "Yeah right. Well, at least you'll be safe in here, since you and I probably won't see each other for the rest of the day. …I'm really sorry about all of this."

Makenshi just looked at her for a few moments, then reached out and took her hand, giving her a small smile. "It may be pointless to do so today… but I wish you happiness for tomorrow, and all the days after. May you be blessed in all your doings, and may fortune smile on you."

Miles squeezed his hand in thanks. "You're a real sweetheart, you know that?" Starting to smile despite herself, she stood up. "And you have a beautiful singing voice, by the way. I have to go now, but I promise I'll send someone down here to get you looked at as soon as I can." On impulse, she leaned down to kiss his cheek in farewell. "In the meantime, try to get some rest, okay?"

"I will."

Miles headed back outside, turning towards the bridge. Time to get the rest of her chores out of the way so that she actually _could _lock herself into her room for everybody else's benefit.

---

Along with her various well-meaning yet hapless Comodeen companions, Miles spent two and a half hours attempting to fix up a weapons system that she eventually discovered had never needed fixing in the first place, but was just being misfired out of very human error. She then spent another half an hour drilling the troops in the _correct _way to fire it. And as soon as that was done and even those awful mess hall potatoes started to seem appetizing, Miles was informed that the laundry needed hanging.

Parking herself in an empty corridor, Miles proceeded to throw shirts, pants, and underwear over the cables strung along it for that purpose. "I hate laundry," she grumbled. "So why is it that _I _always get stuck doing the damn laundry in this place?"

No use complaining. Once she was done with this and dinner, she would be just tired enough to go to sleep and just irritable enough to tell off anyone else who came to her with stuff that needed doing.

She didn't need to keep this up for much longer, thank _God._

"Hey, Miles?"

It was Cid's voice, and that was enough to make her whirl around mid-curse. The inventor had come up the corridor behind her without her noticing, and was smeared with machine oil but looked pleased with himself.

"Finally finished your new toy, Cid?" Miles asked, shaking out the shirt she was holding and throwing it over the makeshift clothesline.

He nodded happily, making his feathery blonde hair flounce. "Yeah, and I was looking for you. Would you mind coming with me for a minute?"

"Uh, I still have to finish this up," Miles told him, pointing to the pile of wet clothes still in the laundry basket.

"It won't be the end of the world if they dry creased," Cid told her, then took her wrist and pulled gently. "Come on—it won't take _that _long, anyway."

"Oh, fine," Miles replied, unable to help smiling. It wasn't like she could possibly refuse Cid, anyway. They'd gotten a lot closer since the time he'd had to kiss her to break a spell that had turned him into a frog back in the days when they'd still been stuck in the Ocean Puzzle on Cid's _other _favorite toy besides Silvia—his submarine, Jane. Miles now counted Cid to be one of her best friends in the Comodeen, and was pretty sure she'd done a good enough job of hiding the fact that she sort of kind of liked him. She didn't mind being dragged away from her chores in order to get a first glimpse of whatever Cid's new project of the week happened to be.

Although, when Miles entered Cid's workshop, she couldn't help feeling a little bit confused at the circle of bluish-purple metal sat on his desk.

Before she could say anything, Cid picked it up and explained. "This is a special communicator I've made," he told her. "It's specifically designed so that it can be worn comfortably, like a necklace. The other half isn't done yet, but it's almost there—I just need to finish up the framework and it'll work perfectly." Handing the communicator to Miles, he pointed to a few small switches disguised as faux precious stones. "These are the switches that turn it on and off. I'll have to do tests on what the range is, but at least here on Silvia, it should work without a hitch."

"That sounds like it'll be pretty useful," Miles said, nodding, as she carefully examined the delicate ring of metal and wire. "So what'd you name this one?"

Cid was silent for a moment, and for some reason, he was starting to blush. "Well, actually…"

"Yeah, what is it?"

"I was wondering if you'd let me name her 'Miles'," Cid blurted.

Miles stared at him, speechless.

Still red-faced, Cid carefully removed the communicator from her suddenly nerveless grasp, undid the delicate catch of the chain that connected it, and slipped it around Miles' neck. "Happy birthday, Miles."

She mouthed at him for a few moments, amazed, before she found her voice. "How did you know?"

Cid scratched his head, obviously embarrassed. "Well… we've both been with the Comodeen for a long time, so it was easy to notice that you always acted depressed on the same day each year. From then on, it wasn't all that hard to figure it out. I mean, who _wouldn't _be depressed if nobody knew when their birthday was? So, I started wondering what I could do." He shifted uncomfortably. "Um, if you don't like it…"

"Are you _kidding?" _Miles interrupted him. "I _love _it! It's been so long since anyone's ever taken so much trouble for me… I can't believe that you did all this!"

Though he was still blushing, Cid smiled at her. "Actually… there's still one more thing. Come with me for a second."

The two of them headed back into the hall, with Cid leading the way. Miles remained silent, fingering her new present in wonder. None of this felt entirely real just yet.

"Okay, here we are!" Cid announced.

Miles pointed to the doors before them. "Cid, this is the mess hall."

"Yep." Cid nodded. "Go ahead, go in!"

Barely had Miles set her hand on the doorknob and started to turn it when a cheer erupted from the room—almost the entire Comodeen, as well as Lisa and the kids, were waiting inside with plates and plates of food along each table, none of it potatoes.

Miles just stood there, shocked.

"Happy birthday, Miles!" the Comodeen caroled as one.

"How did you _do _all this?" Miles asked, bewildered, as Cid shepherded her into the room.

"Well, it's been five years since you joined the Comodeen, so when Cid told us this, we realized that you'd gone five years without having a birthday party," Knave explained. "We all did what we could to help."

"We're sorry we had to run you all over Silvia today," Lisa apologized. "Cid insisted that this be a surprise, and keeping you so busy was the only way we could make sure you didn't accidentally find out."

"Sis got all the food from Poshepocket," Yu volunteered. "Everybody was sick of just potatoes all the time, anyway!"

"Makenshi wanted to be here too, but he fell asleep and the doctor said we shouldn't wake him up," Ai informed Miles. "Something about people with concussions having to stay still, I think."

Miles blushed and made a face; the Comodeen collectively laughed.

"We made sure to get you frogs' legs, too, since that's your favorite," Cid told her, patting her shoulder. "I'll just sort of look the other way while you inhale them."

This time it was Miles' turn to laugh. "I just can't believe you managed to do all this for me." Throwing her arms around Cid, she hugged him tightly. "Thank you!"

Once she finally let him go, Ai and Yu herded her towards the middle table, allowing her only a glimpse of Cid's stunned expression before they sat her down. "We hope we got the cake right," Yu said. "I hope you like chocolate, 'cause that's what Poshepocket had."

"Although we did kind of get into trouble since we didn't know how many candles to put on it," Ai added. "But Makenshi told us twenty-one, so it was okay. Make a wish!"

_They must all have been in on this behind my back, _Miles realized, shaking her head in amazement. It must have taken Cid a long time to get all of this planned. Incredible.

Aloud, she said, "Okay, I've got one," and with the practiced lungs of the Comodeen's best dartwoman, she blew them all out with one breath.

_I wish I'll always have friends like these._

Miles glanced over her shoulder at Cid, still in a state of shock from being hugged.

_Especially friends like him._

:owari :3:


	22. Moonlight

Moonlight

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FF:U, nor do I own Lou. But I own this poem, and so does my Creative Writing teacher, since I used it for a school assignment.

**Rating: **K

**Genre:** Mild angst, general.

**Pairings: **Moonshipping!

**Warning:** Long, rambling emo poem, ONO! If you have any problem with poetry in general or just my doggerel, run away now!

---

I am a child of the earth.

Daughter of queens, heir to nature.

Emerald forests and sapphire seas,

flowers like jewels on the windswept plains,

clouds like cotton in the dreamlike sky,

and the wide mirror of the silver moon:

What I know and what I love.

Things that belong to me, as they do to all of mine.

And I know that I am blessed to see such times.

I am a sister to the wind.

To run free, to slide from one shape to the next

is all I have ever needed or wanted.

The moon rides high above the clouds,

a watchful mother to us all.

I dance beneath her gaze, and revel in her gift:

My truest self. I am loved.

All I have known, all I have needed:

The life from which I have been sundered.

I am a fragment of my world.

Child of none that live,

for all those dear to me have long been gone.

I am nowhere I belong.

Those that see me run from me,

call me "monster", fear me.

Those who have never known the shift of forms

and choose not to understand those alien to them

surround me now. I am alone.

The touch of a friend, the embrace of what earth was mine:

What I long for, and cannot have.

All I have known, all I have loved,

gone—blown from me by the winds of fate.

This place in which I now exist

is a world that never should have been.

A realm without laws, a mix of lost memories

and forgotten dreams. The home of those who linger

after the deaths of all they loved.

I am lost, and smothered in the solitude I hate.

I am waiting to be given life again.

I am a traveler through the darkness.

Belonging to none, and part of nothing.

My secrets and my search are my own,

and what I seek a seemingly hopeless treasure:

Those who would love me as I once was loved.

Those I would need as I needed before.

I can never regain what I once had.

But I can dream of something yet to be found.

The light of day is a memory;

I travel by moonlight, hidden in dark corridors,

a passenger on the black phantom train.

My world is darkened subway cars,

spiral stairways, and the rush of light and sound

in between one stop and the next.

I am a drifter, but now I am searching.

Alone in the darkness, I wait for the moon's kiss once more.

I travel still, but my heart is light.

I have found all I desired and more.

Acceptance, and friendship, in the hearts of other travelers:

Companions once, and perhaps again in the future.

But I have also found my purpose.

I once believed myself to be of the wind,

but he is its true child.

My life is his, and I will go to any length to find him again.

He wanders through this world and leaves hope in his wake,

standing up against those who oppress this place

that lies between the real and the fantastic.

I believe in him, and I believe that I can help him.

I will find him again someday,

and the moon will shine for us.

Its light will break through the storm of my despair,

and through the rain of my tears, the bright colors of hope

will fuse into a rainbow.

I am the last of the daughters of wolves.

And for the first time in too long,

my heart is filled with love, and my soul with hope.


	23. Red Flowers

Red Flowers

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FF:U, nor do I presume to be the sole owner of issues like the ones described in this piece of fanfiction. Depression is a very serious condition with both medical and social causes that afflicts many people in devastating ways, and the act of self-injury is a widespread although largely misunderstood behavior associated with that condition. Millions of people worldwide suffer through these things and worse every single day. If you know someone with clinical—or worse, situational—depression, support them in whatever ways you can.

**Rating:** T

**Genre:** Angst/Drama

**Pairings:** Cloudshipping, also lightly hinted Cid/Kumo

**Warnings:** Yaoi, incest, hardcore angst, possibly disturbing content. As always, read at your own risk.

The sounds of angry voices and slammed doors still ring in Kumo's ears.

He knows that he isn't meant to hear these things. He knows that everyone in his family, ever mindful of his delicate nature, always tells him that he should retreat upstairs during times like these, hide in the relative safety of his room, put his head under his pillow and wait through the agonizing hours of the hateful screaming, praying to God that it will be over soon.

But he sees them, night after night, because dinners are now minefields, ready to erupt in a sea of explosions at a moment's notice. He sees them before he flees, unable to stand any more, leaving his tired father to play mediator between his mother's need to shelter and control her now-teenage boys, and his brother's ever-growing resentment, his independent spirit.

He waits for the doors to slam before he uncovers his ears, shaking in the darkness, listening to the vague sound of his mother's angry railing against her rebellious son downstairs. Shaking, and weeping bitterly that the happiness that has always been a part of their family is dying so horribly.

His father is always there to soothe and calm his mother, to keep her from doing anything harsh.

So neither of them ever sees how Kiri suffers.

Kumo knows. Kumo sees, even though he doesn't want to. Kiri's proud spirit withers in the face of his mother's petty anger, his strength and courage curl in on themselves and bleed. Their parents never see it; they never look to see the signs.

And besides, Kiri is too proud to let his tears show in front of them.

He doesn't let Kumo see him cry, either. But when his brother finally plucks up the strength to mince down the hall on velvet feet towards his room, Kumo sees the rest of it.

Kiri sits on the bed, his back to the door, breathing deeply in a meditative pattern, his legs folded beneath him and his shirt thrown against the far wall. Kumo closes the door and, shrinking, heads to Kiri's side, knowing what he will see.

Little dots of blood are blooming over Kiri's arms, swelling like red flowerbuds about to open along fresh, deep cuts that mar his lovely skin. In time, these terrible blossoms will crust, and fade, and join the many other faint pink and brown lines along the insides of Kiri's arms, crisscrossing and weaving from elbow to wrist. As the only one to ever see his brother naked, Kumo knows that more of these lines march like tallies down the insides of his thighs, counting off the insults, the fights, the failures, the pain that Kiri never lets himself express in any other way.

As Kumo watches, Kiri slowly raises his wounded arm to his lips, and licks off the drops of blood as though he is in a trance.

Kumo understands why Kiri does this, but that doesn't stop him from being terribly afraid. Afraid that one day his mother will go too far. Afraid that Kiri may make a mistake again, cut too deep, lose so much blood so quickly that he will collapse and spend another day or week in bed, asleep, deathly pale and somewhere so far away that Kumo isn't sure he'll come back.

When it happens, and when the questions come, Kumo lies. He lies for his brother's sake, knowing that no one else will care to understand the _why. _Knowing that if someone else discovers this, Kiri may very well be taken away, into the places where people walk in and never leave again. And Kumo couldn't bear it, should that happen to his beloved.

Kumo gets up on the bed behind Kiri, crawls forward, puts his arms around his brother's body.

"Why are you so hurt?" he asks, with tears in his voice. "Why can't I help you?"

Kiri has no spoken answer, but Kumo sees his brother weep for the last time in their shared lives.

They bandage those fresh wounds, undress, and make love in the darkness. Kiri sleeps in Kumo's arms, and as Kumo watches him, he knows that he has never loved nor feared so much for anyone in his life as he has this beautiful, proud, flawed creature, and that he never will again.

Kumo holds his wounded lover through the night, and prays that the two of them will survive long enough to escape the pain of these times, and build a future of their own.

---

Kumo sits in the cold and the silence of his mostly-empty quarters in the nightmare stronghold of Gaudium.

It's become almost routine, and that fact would scare him if he let himself think about it too hard. So he doesn't allow himself to think about anything else. He just regulates his breathing. In, and out.

_I must keep under control._

One sharp slice, and the blood begins to flow.

_I must not show emotion._

A second, deeper cut, overlaid across the first so closely that one cannot be separated from the other.

_I must grit my teeth and straighten my back, and not betray myself._

It's so hard. He knew it would be difficult trying to destroy Chaos from the inside, but he'd had no idea it would be this hard. In the face of the atrocities he sees every day, in the face of being forced to pretend to commit such atrocities himself—it's so impossibly hard to maintain a controlled façade.

So hard to cut himself off from his emotions.

And so to divert himself from fully realizing one pain—and punish himself for his failures—he gives himself another to focus on. Injure the body, so that the soul doesn't become so battered that it self-destructs.

Kumo presses his sword into his skin harder, and watches as blood blooms there, taking for one brief instant the shape of the scarlet spider lilies he once laid on his beloved brother's grave. It feels like a lifetime ago… and it also feels like yesterday.

He'd sworn to take up his sword against Chaos, take Kiri's place in the hopeless battle, to be everything his brother had been and could no longer be.

He'd never thought he would end up like Kiri in this way, too.

_I must… control myself._

"…nngh…"

It hurts. But he can't stop.

---

Kumo lies in his bed on the rebel military airship, his breath a sad and desperate wheeze for air, the sickly sheen of sweat glistening on his face, his body—and thus his darkest secret—laid bare.

He is never alone now—he is not trusted to be on his own—but he has never _felt _more alone. He has never enjoyed being on the receiving end of stares, and he can't bear the pity, the accusation, the fear, and the disgust.

Ever since they found him collapsed and bleeding out his life onto the cold tiled floors, he has been like this. Too weak to protest, too weak even to sit up, his arms and wrists bandaged tightly though old scars continue to peep through the soft lengths of linen, and the fresh bloodstains continue to grow against the pads of gauze slapped to his open wounds. Kept under suicide watch, day and night, despite the fact that he couldn't lift even the littlest knife if his life depended on it.

How is he supposed to explain himself to them when they demand it?

These scars are a clouded window to his heart. If every old wound, old hurtful lesson was displayed on his skin, his entire body would be covered in tiny cuts, in bloody flowers. He has been in so much pain for so long, and these cuts are the only way for them to see it.

Kumo lies still and knows that he has truly become like his brother in every way—now that he can no longer live without the kiss of steel against his skin.

The dark-skinned inventor sits at his side tonight. No accusation in those blue eyes, only worry—which is even harder for Kumo to bear. He wishes that he could explain that it was an accident, he never meant to cut that deep—but they would never understand, not even Cid.

Despair echoes in his core as the young man reaches out, gently caresses his hair.

"Why are you in so much pain?" Cid asks softly. "Isn't there anything I can do to help?"

Kumo remembers a day when he spoke those same words to the one he loved, and the tears begin to flow.

Through the low moan of his sob rising into a wail, Cid reaches out to him, and holds him close.

Kumo lies desolate tonight, caught between his memories and the reality that he is now something he once swore never to become.

:owari:


	24. The Road to Anywhere

The Road to Anywhere

**Disclaimer:** Don't own FF:U, you know the drill, my CW teacher owns the assignment

**Rating:** K, perfectly appropriate for all things school-related

**Genre: **Drama

**Pairings:** None

**Warnings:** Likewise, none (wow, I actually wrote a story that no warnings are needed on?? Amazing…)

Every life's journey begins in a different place, at a different time, each unique to the one about to embark and throw their life into the hands of destiny.

This journey begins in the darkness of midnight punctuated only by the dim broken lights that were never replaced nor shut off in an abandoned subway station of Sadogashima, Japan.

In the half-lit gloom, the atmosphere seemed slightly surreal, too hazy to throw the spray-painted graffiti on the dingy walls into stark relief, or to illuminate crumpled balls of trash for what they were and chase away the slightly supernatural atmosphere that settles over all the world in the pit of night. The faintly musty odor of disrepair permeated the air, one more unsettling flavor to add to the tense feeling that anything could happen—and that whatever _could, _was going to.

A poster, its once-cheerful colors faded by time and neglect and its tattered corners slowly beginning to curl inwards like an old man retreating into his domain with the crotchety misgivings and secrecy of age, proclaimed "Pillar of Darkness – World-Renowned Sado Tour" in big, cheery block letters, with the sharp black ink stamp of "Not Currently Running" placed diagonally along its length. It looked like a warning, or like police tape, forbidding and tantalizing and just _daring _would-be adventurers to try to find out why this was so.

No brightly painted, new and shiny train had pulled into this station for years—not since the strange disappearances had started, and that air of danger had begun to settle over this broken-down room. But a train _would _be coming tonight—of that those who waited here were sure. Tonight, and only tonight, until next month—until the next full moon night, when perhaps another curious thrill-seeker might wander down here at thirteen minutes and thirteen seconds past midnight.

In the middle of a row of chairs with faded, torn cushions sat two children, bent concentrating over a watch, a carefully stocked backpack claiming the chair on either side of them. The colors of their school uniforms provided the only brightness in the room, as if their youth and innocence was striving to chase away the gloom of the empty station.

"I… don't think it's coming, Sis," the boy said hesitantly.

The girl waved her hand to hush him. "We've still got two or three minutes to go. See?" And she pointed to the watch.

"…Aren't you even scared?" he wondered.

She fixed him with a smoldering glare. "We're going to look for Mom and Dad, you know," she reminded him testily, then turned back towards the far wall, clenching her fists on her bright plaid skirt and biting her lip. "There's no time to be scared right now…"

"Yeah… I guess you're right." And the boy looked back at the watch with a sigh.

Every life's journey begins at a different place, a different time. Every traveler's purpose and destination is different.

And for these two children, the train about to pull into the dank, neglected station would represent the road to anywhere.

:owari:


	25. Unsedated, by Reinna

Unsedated

**Basic Summary:** The white haired swordsman that is both Makenshi and Shiroi Kumo. An emo poem turned fic.

**Rating:** K+

**Warnings:** Not many, actually. Just angst, and some violence.

For Feral Phoenix, who is a wonderful writer, and provider of some of the best FFU fanfiction on this site. :D And because angst is all I can write.

--- 

A falling sort of feeling

Except not

When both feet are planted firmly on the ground

And the sensation of sinking

Is only in your mind

A white knuckled grip

On a fantasy

Because reality

Is too sharp

Too fragmented

For a mind unsedated

By lies

Kumo wished there were a sort of anesthesia for the mind. Something to dull everything, blank out the images and the memories and the pain, even if only for a little bit. To wipe everything into a clean, uniform gray, so that that truth and lies alike were smeared and undistinguishable from each other underneath the dirt.

Or even better, something like the amnesia Kaze suffered from, to be able to forget every moment of pain and sorrow suffered, and focus your entire soul and being on a single goal. Which, at the moment, was centered upon killing him.

Not that Kumo felt that this was altogether undeserved. 

Crimsononagrayfieldchildrencryingandscreaming. All of the people killed, of the lives lost, the blood spilled in the name of Chaos. The soft horror at the enjoyment he found in the shining arc of his blade, the mild appreciation in the stark beauty of crimson drops against a white background, before the nausea set in, followed by the deep guilt that weighed down his gut. The awful magnificence of his Ittouju as it decimated entire villages, flashes of pure white light in contrast to the dark black of death. A whole world synchronized, harmonizing in a single unanswered cry as its inhabitants burned and died.

Kami-sama… 

The gray would eliminate that, eliminate it all. No more pleasure, no more horror, and most of all, no more guilt.

But then, even if such a tranquilizer was available, he wouldn't have been able to use it anyway. The pretense that had become his life, waking and sleeping, the persona of Makenshi, the Earl's willing slave and henchman. Playing the role had required total immersion in this other personality, burying his true self underneath his creation. But now, sometimes, Kumo thought that he'd lost himself somewhere underneath the person that looked to the child-Earl as its God, following every one of its orders with mindless intensity. Makenshi became his own person, with a personality and characteristics all of his own.

That horrified him, that sometimes he could not find where it ended, and he began, a repulsive, hated mask that had somehow began fusing itself to his very being. Occasionally, he would find its thoughts creeping into his mind. A moment of irrational, overpowering hatred of Kaze. An itch for the sensation of flesh beneath his Maken, finding himself beginning to appreciate Chaos's actions in the back of his mind.

And so, he could not succumb. A release from his guilt, from his responsibilities may just be the final layer of binding fusing this second skin to his own. He could not afford to be sidetracked. The heavy burden of remorse and responsibility helped him retain himself, keep from being swallowed and enveloped entirely by the one called Makenshi. Tranquility, forgetfulness, all would only be a lie that he used to blind himself from the truth.

He would have to wait then, wait for Kaze to remember, wait for Kaze to finish this entire charade. Wait for Kaze to fire his Magun once again, and break the cycle of pain and pretending. Wait, and wait, and remain for all the while, unsedated.

Hurry up, Kaze. End this.

**End.**


	26. The Good, the Bad, and the Stupid

The Good, the Bad, and the Just Plain Stupid

Disclaimer: I don't own FF:U or Aura or Westerns or anything. I just own this plot.

Rating: T

Genre: Spoof:D

Pairings: Silvershipping for the win!

Warnings: Language, Aura, general silliness, Aura, gun violence, Aura, maybe some off-color yuri jokes, Aura, and Aura. I think that about covers it.

It was high noon in the dusty little desert town in the middle of nowhere.

Despite the town's being in the middle of nowhere, however, the saloon was strangely full. Most of the clientele was smoking, playing cards, or sloshing beer; however, a certain table was busy jeering at the busty, rather doe-eyed and apparently empty-headed waitress who was making her rounds, pouring refills of alcohol, and smiling demurely at everyone present.

When the waitress passed by this table, one of the men reached out and grabbed her by the arm, reeling her in with a leering, gap-toothed grin on his unshaven face. "Well, hey, there, girlie," he sniggered. "How about you and I go out back and you show me some of the other 'services' they sell here?"

The girl squeaked, dropped her pitcher, and squirmed. "Noooo! Let me gooo," she squealed.

"Or you'll what?" the man said to roars of laughter from his friends. "Looks like nobody out here can help you!"

"Noooo! Someone _save _me!" the girl cried, swooning away from her captor.

The double doors to the saloon slammed open.

The girl turned towards the newcomer with a delighted look. "My hero…!"

Her face fell, however, as a pair of women walked through the doors instead of the gunslinger she seemed to be expecting.

One of the two, with long silvery hair and a lovely dark blue dress, turned to her companion with a wry smile. _"Again? _You sure know how to pick your bars, Aura…"

The other girl, dressed in black with a holster hanging at each hip, rolled her eyes. "Just shut up for once, why don't you."

"Oooh, it looks like more wenches are going to join the party!" laughed the man who was holding on to the waitress.

The girl named Aura pulled a silver revolver from its holster and pointed it at him. "Either shut up and let me have a goddamn normal date with my goddamn girlfriend for once, or eat lead," she informed him flatly. "I'm sick of stupid people like you interrupting what's supposed to be _my_ private time with her."

The saloon's clientele collectively sweatdropped.

"So you think you wanna fight, do you, girlie?" The lecherous man stood up and shoved the waitress away, pulling out a pistol. "Well, for your information… _we _deal in bullets."

Aura rolled her eyes again and pulled the trigger, neatly blowing off the man's Stetson.

As he whined and danced indignantly at the loss of his hat, she placed her free hand on her hip. "Well, that's what you deserve if you're going to stand there spewing lines like that. What do you think this is? Some old-fashioned Western movie?"

Red-faced, the man marched right up to her and shoved his finger in Aura's face. "Let's settle this here and now, 'cause this town just ain't big enough for the both of us!"

"Oei." Aura shook her head at him. "Fine, fine. So, what do you want… some kind of quickdraw or something?"

"Fine with me!"

---

"The usual—ten paces and we turn around, got it, _missy?" _the angry man snapped, standing back-to-back with Aura in the street as the town looked on.

"Yeah, yeah, _what. Ever."_ Aura tapped her foot. "Go already."

The man began to count in a steady voice; when he got to "five", Aura turned around and shot him in the back.

As he crumpled, the waitress let out an indignant squeak. "How dishonorable!"

Aura, sticking her gun back in its holster, turned to her with an upraised eyebrow. "Yeah, and you're complaining _because…? _I was just rescuing _your _virginity, remember?"

"We'll get you for killing our boss like that!" whined one of the dead man's cronies.

Aura turned to them with a bored expression. "Do _you _all wanna get shot, too?"

The bad guys collectively went "meep" and ran away.

The waitress made a pouty face, fingered her apron, and scowled at Aura. "…Forgive me, miss, but you… aren't exactly what we were expecting."

"So, what… I was supposed to be some tall, dark, idiotic guy with a shotgun who can shoot away all the malcontents' hats, drinks, and weaponry, rescue the saloon, have some crazy honorable showdown in the middle of this ridiculously stereotypical town, passionately deflower you in the nearest stable, and ride off with you into the sunset?" Aura challenged.

"Well…"

The black-clad girl threw up her hands with a disgusted sigh. "What _is _this? Some Clint Eastwood movie?"

"Straight out of _The Good, The Bad, and the Stupid," _Aura's girlfriend commented with a smile.

"Well, whatever. Let's ditch these lamers and find someplace civilized to eat."

"Fine. But next time, _I _get to pick the restaurant, okay?"

"…sure…"

And with that, the two of them walked out of the town and into the sunset, leaving their disappointed onlookers standing speechless.

:owari:


	27. Ribbon

Ribbon

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Final Fantasy: Unlimited. Is this news to anyone reading this? It shouldn't be… Anyhow, the fic is mine; don't steal and I won't have to sic my evil muses on you. Capisce?

**Rating: **K (nooooo, not another one!)

**Genre: **Humor

**Pairings: **Very mild implied Cloudshipping… if you squint.

**Warnings: **Mild After spoilers, silliness, and faint hints of a pairing that squicks some people. Nothing worse, I assure you.

---

"Well, _I _think if you're so curious about it, you should just _ask _him," Ai said in a low voice after Makenshi was out of earshot, folding her arms and scowling.

"It might be a little rude to, though, Sis," Yu protested, spreading his hands wide.

"It's not as if he enjoys talking about himself," Lisa agreed. "Though, for anyone with _his _past, that's very understandable…"

"Depending on what it's actually _for _and who gave it to him, though, it might help us understand him better," Cid said, scratching his chin and shrugging one shoulder. "You know, the kinds of accessories people wear can tell you a lot about them. Like the way Ai used to wear Clear's crystal, or how Kaze keeps that earring as a memento of someone close to him."

"It may actually have some purpose, though," Clear replied, shaking his head and peering out of their circle to glance at Makenshi's retreating back. "Sometimes strange things like that actually do, after all…"

"Hmmmmm." Ai scowled in concentration, then held up a finger, wide-eyed. "Heyyyy, remember in the cloud city back when that obnoxious Pist guy put us in the Ocean Puzzle, when we saw Makenshi's big brother? _He _had one on too, I think!"

"That _is _interesting," Miles agreed. "Still, it doesn't narrow things down much. It could be something that their people just wear, it could serve some purpose to them, or it could be something personal. Ai's right… we should just ask; I'm sure he's been wondering why we've been staring and whispering for so long."

"That's right," Knave put in decisively. "Let us adhere to the Comodeen's code of order and settle the matter straightaway!"

---

Kumo blinked.

"Ehh…?" Turning from one intensely curious face to the next, he pointed to the soft circle of light periwinkle and blue that rested at the base of his throat. "You… want to know about this?"

Ai, Yu, Lisa, Cid, Miles, Clear, Knave, and the several other members of the Comodeen present all nodded. Even _Kaze _was staring at him intently from his little corner of Silvia's bridge, as determined to know the answer as the rest of them.

Flustered, Kumo looked at all of them, shaking his head. This was… certainly sudden. Was _this _what they'd been talking about so privately and intensely all morning?

"W-well… my… my mother made this," he ventured at length, still somewhat bewildered by the intensity of their curiosity. "She also made them for Niisama and a few friends of ours. And Niisama gave me this" he tugged on the long silky ribbon fixed to the back "because he thought it would look good on me."

Kumo's audience stared at him, nonplussed.

_"Ohhh," _they said in unison, starting to trail off, turning to each other as they did.

"I told you it was a personal thing."

"So he's a mama's boy…"

"I still liked my idea better."

"Oh, well."

Kumo shook his head at them, then sighed, fingering his ribbon. He turned to Crux where she'd been hovering at his shoulder the whole time and stared briefly at the deep red-violet crystal embedded in her chest, wondering as he usually did if his beloved brother's consciousness still lingered within it or if the last of Kiri's soul had moved on after bequeathing his strength and the considerable powers of madou to Kumo. Kiri probably would've been amused by what had just happened.

"Kukuriyu?" Puzzled, she tilted her head and stared back at him.

Kumo sighed and turned to glance back at his companions with a sad smile, burying thoughts of the one he still wore the contentious ribbon in remembrance of. "These people are… very strange sometimes."

**Owari.**


	28. This Twisted Mirror

This Twisted Mirror

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FF:U. No, seriously, I don't. Kinda unbelievable, isn't it?

**Rating: **K+

**Genre: **Drama/introspection. Oh, and fluff too. Very much fluffy and d'aww.

**Pairings:** Teeny tiny bits and pieces of implied Cloudshipping? This is more about Kumo and Ai's relationship though, which is made entirely of cuteness and win.

**Warnings: **Excessive introspection, mild Kumo angst (but HEY, Kumo's LIFE is angst), hints of a pairing some find squicky, After spoilers… I think that covers it.

---

Kumo could still pinpoint the exact moment things had changed.

Or really, the exact _two _moments. It wasn't as though his life hadn't altered irrevocably when he'd collapsed in the airship halls only to be buoyed up on Miles' supportive shoulder, but he'd had the much more pressing issue of the disappearance of his Mist to focus on, and he still hadn't been able to process it even though he should've realized it when Cid came with him to explore what was left of his world. He saw that it had started then in retrospect.

But he'd only truly noticed after his dramatic reunion with Kaze had almost, _almost _become another explosive battle. When Kaze had realized the loss of his Mist and stated that he would ignore his rival until a time when their fight could gather the energy to destroy Chaos, vanishing along with his protective Soil. With Kaze and Chaos' minions and so the shielding current of adrenaline through his blood gone, he'd realized in sudden horror that he'd pushed himself far too hard in his condition, clutched at the growing bloodstain at the wound in his belly, and sprawled to his knees.

About two seconds later, they'd been surrounding him, demanding to know if he'd been alright and then scolding him for exerting himself so. He'd been badly confused by all the attention—for so long, his small hurts had mattered to none, least of all himself, and he'd had to hide them or suffer even further. But at that moment, as the weakness he'd tried so hard to stifle overtook him, when Cid and Lisa and the twins and even their chocobo banded together to support him… he'd had a strange feeling, a warm feeling, and the sudden realization that for once in his new life, the life he'd had since his first battle with Chaos… _he wasn't alone._

It had felt so strange to Kumo. Since he'd awakened to learn that Chaos had _not _been destroyed after all, he had always been alone. It had been so painful, and yet he'd resigned himself to the fact that he would be alone for the rest of his existence. Now, surrounded by the Comodeen and these children of the world they called Earth, he was being forced to unravel that resignation.

It was awkward at first. He was so used to his silence and solitude, they so used to acting as a community, to speech and baring their emotions. But slowly, Kumo began to reach out to them as well.

The night he'd quietly, almost shyly accosted Knave after one of his speeches to the Comodeen about the order he hoped to establish, and tried haltingly to explain that what the world needed was a balance between order and chaos. At first Knave had been disgruntled, but when Kumo had pleadingly said that without chaos there could be no emotion and that emotion was a precious, precious thing, the rebel leader had gotten a surprised expression, then nodded thoughtfully, as if he understood.

The day Cid had openly discussed the fate of lost worlds and the place of Soil and Mist in the scheme of the battle with Chaos, and Kumo had volunteered what he knew of the cycle, coaxed by the inventor to give a thorough, detailed explanation of how Mist summons worked.

The time they'd passed by the ruins of Mystaria again, and Miles had told him that it was far less painful to shed tears than to hold them in. His surprise and gratitude at the way she'd lightly touched his shoulder and said that hers was always available, if he ever needed it.

There was Crux and her undying devotion to him—he'd tried to protest that one simple act of kindness did not merit her attitude, but she'd shrugged him off after reminding him that that "one simple act of kindness" had saved her life. And truly, he cherished their closeness. After all, she was the first friend he'd had since the death of his beloved brother.

And Lisa, and her struggles with her own heart. Kumo wanted so badly to tell her that she shouldn't try to warp her feelings, that she should express them openly or she would never be able to accept them. Because of Chaos, he couldn't, but he saw his own despair at the loss of his world and the continuing, eternal ache of Kiri's death in her troubles, and watched over her from a distance.

And the children—God, the children… There were times when it hurt even to watch them, because to watch them was like holding a mirror into Kumo's own past and displaying bits and pieces of his life for the world to see. It was all the same and yet it was different, but the parts that were the same were too similar for it not to be painful.

Kumo saw himself so _clearly _in Yu's desire to be stronger, in his demands to learn to fight so that he could protect the people he loved. And now he knew what it must have been like for Kiri when (it seemed so long ago) he'd made the same demand, not even out of any desire to fight, but just out of a childish dream of being closer to his brother. As carefully as he could, he explained to Yu that to seek martial power was to invite hardship, and Yu listened far better than he ever had—perhaps because Kumo himself was such a prime example of how he might end up.

Being looked up to was so _flustering. _But Yu did, and even worse, Yu trusted him absolutely. Kumo wasn't sure what he was supposed to do about that, but a part of him was secretly flattered by the small boy's faith. He wanted to live up to that.

Ai didn't look up to him in the least. But he wouldn't trade what they had for that or for _anything _else. When Kumo watched her with Yu, it was almost like seeing Kiri reborn—she was so brash and protective of her younger brother and bright and animated and never, _never _afraid to say _exactly _what she thought and felt. There was no awe for him in her—the way she behaved near him was almost bewildering. She scolded him when she felt he needed to be yelled at, teased him almost constantly (and it was _always _surprising to get that humorous little nudge), enlisted him to keep Yu in line, enthusiastically hugged him when she was pleased with him, and always made a beeline straight for him to cry into his supportive arms when she was sad or afraid. She wouldn't have left him alone even if he'd wanted her to, and he rarely minded it when she pestered him.

When she gave him advice, it was always frank, and it was always something Kumo considered, realizing that Kiri had or would've told him the same thing. She needed looking after, it was true—she was, after all, still a child—but she also made sure that _he _was looked after, which baffled him completely. The Comodeen laughed and told him it looked like she'd adopted him. Kumo didn't know if that was what their relationship was, but he knew that whatever it happened to be, it was precious to him.

Being around her was more painful than anything else because she was so like Kiri, but because she was so like him and because she was _herself, _she was very dear to him. At the end of their short stay in Sadogashima, she'd told him privately in no uncertain terms that after Chaos was defeated, he was going to live with her family, since he didn't have a home anymore. It was the most precious gift anyone could possibly have given him.

That was when Kumo made his _second _life-changing realization: He'd grown to care for these people deeply, and especially because Chaos was involved and none of them would stop fighting and drop _their _involvement, he would defend every last one of them with his life if need be. They were his friends, his supporters, and—in the case of those dear children—his loved ones.

When he was with them, when they made him remember how to smile, how to laugh, how to love, he truly pitied Kaze from the bottom of his heart.

_Oh, Kaze… _he thought to himself with a rueful shake of his head, _you had it in you to spurn this greatest of treasures…? You were a fool to give them up, and I am sorry for it. They could do you, too, so much good._

But for now, it was enough that they had saved Kumo… that they had presented bits and pieces of his own life to him in the twisted mirror of fate, and shown him that he was finally, _finally _no longer alone.

**Owari.**


	29. The Pieces of His Heart, for Reinna

The Pieces of His Heart

**Disclaimer: **I really, seriously do not own FF:U. If you have a problem with my not owning it, take it up with my evil muses; they'll be happy to deal with it. This oneshot is for Reinna, the 75th reviewer of Kokoro no Hanashi. You do know I love you, right?

**Rating: **T

**Genre: **Angst. 'Cause you just can't get enough of the tragedy in Kumo's life, NOW CAN YOU?

**Pairings: **Cloudshipping. Also, hints of Skyshipping.

**Warnings: **Yaoi. Incestuous pairings. Discussion of sexual abuse. You don't like? Back button's over there, darlings.

---

_((when you're gone, the pieces of my heart are missing you/when you're gone, the face I came to know is missing too)) _–Avril Lavigne//When You're Gone

_**Kiri.**_

A beloved face, a treasured name. The dearest memory. The long, brutal ache of knowing that everything changes, but nothing, _nothing _will ever return to the way things were.

In his dreams, he remembers how it was back then: Waking up every day in the arms of someone who adored him, spending every hour, every minute side by side with the one he loved more than any other. Warmth, kindness, togetherness.

Days spent in swordsmanship practice, sparring, dancing back and forth between wins and losses that mattered nothing because either way the result was deeper trust. The burning heat of summer, pale and inconsequential beside the heat of passion, the slow and languorous love they'd made, trysting beneath the high blue-black sky and the all-encompassing blanket of stars. The terrible cold of winter, held at bay by soft and protective arms, by the entrancing heat of the taller, stronger body curled around his own.

_My beloved. _The words burn into tears behind his eyes, curling pain around his shattered heart as the memories darken and the love grows bitter.

Cold, soulless, apathetic scarlet eyes where once there was so deep a love. Dancing in deadly earnest, combat locked to the death. Pride honed to a painful edge, unyielding, unforgiving.

Blood. The blood staining his hands and arms, the worst of sins, as that hardness and that hatred dissolve, leaving only deep shock, and pain, and sorrow. A brief touch, and then everything is gone, the warped and resurrected memories retreating into the grave from which they were so brutally resurrected.

It hurts. It hurts like no other pain. There are days when he doesn't know what is real anymore, even though all he wants are those gentle hands against his bare skin, those tender kisses, those whispered oaths that promised an eternity of love and protection.

But nothing can ever be the way it was before.

_Kiri. My brother, my love. When you died, you took so much of what I was with you._

_**Kaze.**_

Strength and protection and the uncompromising, bitter grip on a goal that must be fulfilled.

Relentless. Tireless. Unforgiving. So very unforgiving.

Bitter memories, twisted lies which encircle and obscure the truth. Ally turned enemy, and all it brings him is pain, bitter pain, when over and over he is forced to fight to hold back someone who might once have become a friend. Every time they come face to face, the fading hope rekindles that there will be acknowledgement, acceptance, understanding, _kinship_—or at least _something_—in those flat cerulean eyes. But time after time there is none, no memory, nothing whatsoever. Just cold distrust and hatred.

Sometimes he thinks it would be easier to end the pain by accidentally, purposely slipping up, by allowing the life of one or the other of them to come to an end. But he cannot. If they do not triumph in this hopeless battle, who will?

And so he stalls for time again and again and keeps hoping and his hopes are always crushed and it's killing him. The pain that Chaos itself might well have engineered, the pain that surely helps Chaos to grow stronger.

But he cannot give up and so it just keeps spiraling on and on endlessly.

Even worse are the stray thoughts he cannot repress or control. Brief moments where he wonders things that he knows are forbidden. Just what it would feel like, to have hands rough with the recoil of hundreds of gunshots slide along his naked skin. What warmth those still and silent lips might hold, how they might taste. If that blank expression would ever change—in a kiss, or in passion, would there be kindness there? Would there be helplessness, or a smile? Was that face capable at all of displaying love? If ever they did, somehow—what would it be like? Would he himself still be capable of feeling and expressing pleasure at all?

But then the shame would break across those thoughts and scatter them. How could he even entertain them in the first place? He'd loved someone, sworn to commit to that person and only that person, and even if those vows were already being broken by force the least he could do would be to keep from breaking them willfully. But still those thoughts came, those vividly bitter and twisted fantasies, and they stirred his blood brutally and it ruined him.

_Kaze. What are you to me, after all; what would you be—if there could ever be a day when we would not be enemies…_

_**Chaos.**_

Hatred, fear, and pain. Bitterness. Revulsion. Being forced, and forcing himself to take it.

_Please let it end._

Brutal touch that makes the hope and light and life in everything go dull. Greed, and lust. It burns his skin and tears his body, and he bleeds, and tries so hard to stifle his tears.

_Anyone…_

It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, _it hurts._ And it never seems to end, not even when he's sure he can't take any more without screaming, without pleading. His vision fades and everything aches and he can't take much more, _God _he can't take any more.

_K-Kaze… please…_

He holds his thoughts in and surrenders to the architect of his despair, to the _creature _that professes to own his body and soul in a travesty of his dearest memories, reaching into and ruining even the purest moments of the life that came before.

_Niisama…_

He lies broken and bleeding and dying the slow sure death of shame and heartbreak until his nemesis is sated, and it takes so much of his pain and humiliation to sate a monster nearing godhood. Nowhere he tries to hide is safe—his mind is as good as shattered and his body is trapped in endless horror and his heart is broken and every memory is tainted and corrupted beneath the touch of those cruel hands.

_Please. Save me._

Once he has been abandoned, abandoned to rue his very existence and lie cold and alone and heartbroken, he allows his tears to come. As silently as he can, he cries and cries into the stifling darkness where no one can hear him.

He never hated until he came face to face with this beast. He never feared, never desired to kill, never whetted his temper on ugly, cutting words. There are times when he fears that he is becoming all that he pretends to be and worse.

He will never be pure again. He will never be whole again. The poison of his enemy's existence has seeped bitter and painful into the very depths of his soul, and he fears that the stain can never be cleansed away.

_Chaos. May the day come soon when I can raise my sword to seal it and all the ugliness it spawns away._

_**Kiri. Kaze. Chaos. Once his life was so much more, but it revolves around these three so much that even their names and existences begin to blend, to meld, to run together into an aching blur of grief and confusion and despair. What he had, and what is left—there is no escape from his pain. He is alone and yet always surrounded by the three lives most important to him, the good and the bad, and yet he must escape the evil that surrounds him and take shelter in the tattered shreds of what was precious once. And then, only then… can he piece his heart back together at last.**_

Owari.


	30. Vibrato

Vibrato

**Disclaimer:** I really, really don't own FF:U. _Really really. _I just own oneshots. And plot bunnies.

**Rating:** T

**Genre: **Fluff. Humor. Romance. Light citrus undertone. Take your pick.

**Pairings: **Cloudshipping, for Cloudshipping is WIN.

**Warnings: **Yaoi, incest—come on, y'all know what Cloudshipping is. Sexual discussion, particularly of sexually-based fixation on otherwise innocuous anatomy, and light sexual content. Don't like, don't read, kiddies.

---

Kumo loved Kiri. Kumo loved everything _about _Kiri. The slightly crooked smirk that said he was up to no good, the intensity of his bold crimson stare, the long cascade of scarlet that served as physical proof of his vanity. Those soft, creative lips; that wonderfully wicked mind. The ever-pervasive pride that always seemed to get underfoot—and the flash of temper whenever it was stepped on. The oh-so-slight arch of an eyebrow as he'd grin and say something in a mild tone, making a would-be innocent remark rich with innuendo.

Kumo loved Kiri deeply, completely, and unconditionally, body and soul; the world narrowed down to just the two of them when they spoke, their kisses made his entire body ache with the sweet pain of wanting more, and by all that was holy, _bells rang _when they made love.

Kumo wasn't entirely aware of how or when he'd really fallen for his older brother, the same way he wasn't entirely sure how old he'd been when he'd realized that maybe kissing and all that was associated with it might _not _be icky after all, or at precisely what point in his childhood he'd begun to touch himself. It was just something that felt as though it'd always been that way.

There _was _one thing Kumo _did _know, and that was how the long-internalized, long-harbored love-lust-longing had manifested. Why shouldn't he, when he still felt that basic, elemental pull whenever he wound up watching Kiri at a distance?

Kumo adored Kiri.

But almost more than that, Kumo _loved _Kiri's hands. To a degree that, even _he_ was able torealize, was a little… obsessive.

It wasn't like he could _help _it. Kiri had beautiful, beautiful hands: Long and slender, with the ivory tones of his pale skin shaded in contours as he gestured. They were androgynous hands, the tips of the fingers not quite tapered enough to be feminine but the fingers themselves not large or blunt enough, the knuckles not heavy enough to be masculine. They were elegant hands, born to curl lightly and comfortably around the hilt of a sword or the strings of a cello.

Kiri had a musician's hands, and he was a wonderfully talented musician. His sword was his joy, his life. His cello was his baby. No one other than family and friends was allowed to get anywhere near it, and he played it religiously every day. There was something so unbearably _erotic _about the way Kiri would smile as he sat down with his beloved instrument, running lightly callused fingertips down the strings, testing the bow hair, and caressing the scroll and tuning pegs before even beginning to play; if Kumo was there when Kiri began his daily ritual, he usually came far, far too close to being pushed beyond his self-control could hold him. Even so, whenever they finished their daily practice of whatever music they happened to be studying at the time, Kumo always wound up finding an excuse to catch Kiri alone so that they could practice a quite different type of duet, a tangled crescendo of rhythm and passion between the sheets of their bed.

He'd mostly grown out of the habit by now, but every now and again Kumo caught Kiri lightly chewing the nails of his left hand. He'd be thinking or reading or listening, his attention everywhere but his own actions, and he would be artfully draped to his left side, his face propped on his left arm, a forefinger resting against his slightly parted lips. There was rarely much there for him to bite at—Kiri had to keep the nails of his left hand short so that he could play the cello—but he'd worry what was there nevertheless. Kumo didn't really understand why an action so small was so _sexy, _but there wasn't anything he could do about it. Seeing Kiri's hand at his lips for so long always got him hot.

A lot of their touch was through their hands—fingers interlaced, or just side by side with Kiri's arm around his waist, that lovely hand resting on his hip or drifting at more of an angle for a mischievous, predatory hold on his derriere. When they were alone, Kiri would kiss him and touch him, those long elegant fingers tracing meaningless patterns along his skin that left a prickle of arousal in their wake. When they were in bed together, those hands would be clamped in a heavy, near-bruising grip on his hips, or they would run lightly, delicately over sensitive spots, nearly driving Kumo mad with desire.

Kiri's hands were beautiful and they were sexy and they were so, so deviously _inventive._

And at the moment, they were working resolutely but playfully at a slightly knotted muscle in Kumo's back.

Knowing that Kumo had strained himself in training, Kiri had volunteered (over Kumo's protests) to give him a massage. Kumo had tried to refuse, but in the end, hadn't been able to. That pull was just too powerful. He had to be touched; he couldn't tear himself away.

Even though Kiri had begun with only gentle touches, working a fingertip back and forth in a light vibrato motion, having a muscle that tense stretched out again was _painful. _Still, Kiri had been patient, and for Kumo the glory of closeness was worth all the pain. The worst of which, incidentally, had dissipated several minutes ago. And yet Kiri was still kneading his back for some reason, starting with one hand, then the other, the arc of a thumb firm against Kumo's as-yet tender muscle while fingertips and free hand eased up and down, playing his brother's back like it was his beloved cello.

Well, both of them really knew the reason. Kiri could be very creative with foreplay.

"Feel good?" Kiri asked in a light, taunting tone. Kumo would be damned if Kiri didn't _know _what this was doing to him. As it was, he was all too glad that he was facing away from his brother—it helped to hide the state he was in. It was all he could do to not whirl around and demand to be had right then and there.

"A little to the left," he replied, closing his eyes and shuddering as Kiri obliged. "Lower—lower—no, there, there… that's—_oh, God……!"_

As Kiri pressed in and traced heavy circles into that spot, Kumo squeezed his eyes shut, gasped, and bowed his body in, arching away from Kiri's touch. Kiri leaned in close behind him, only pressing harder.

"Niisama—_nn. _Don't—ugh—_unnh… _Oh God—please—_yes—YES—"_

Kumo took a shaky breath, then let out a choked cry, flinching forward and curling his toes on the sheets. When he fell, all his muscles slack, Kiri finally let go, putting his arms around Kumo instead.

"That—that was on purpose," Kumo said hazily, trying to sound reproachful. Kiri was smirking. He _wanted _to be cross—he hadn't wanted or expected something like _that _as a side to the massage—but the orgasm had just felt too good for him to be resentful. And it wasn't like he could stay mad at Kiri for long anyway.

"Maybe," Kiri replied with a cheeky grin. "But it served its purpose, right? Doesn't that feel better?"

Kumo huffed a little, then eased further back into Kiri's arms with a slight purr. It was the magic in those hands, as usual, that was to blame.

"Don't tell me you're too tired for another round?" Teasing again, almost mocking. Kiri knew that Kumo wouldn't give in to a challenge.

Especially not when further touch was involved, another chance for Kumo to feed his secret addiction. "Hmph. As if."

Kiri laughed wickedly, leaning down to kiss Kumo's cheek. "Thought not."

"Just do me a favor?"

"Hm?" The line of kisses halted, and Kiri glanced at him absently.

"Stop teasing and lay your hands on me."

**Owari.**


	31. Where You Are, for Salacassera

Where You Are

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FF:U. Seriously. The outfit that Kaze wears here was designed by Soremiyo and can be seen on her fansite, Cappuccino. This oneshot is for my friend Salacassera, who was incidentally the 25th reviewer of this oneshot service! Thanks for reading.

**Rating: **K+

**Genre: **Romance. Fluff. Squee.

**Pairings: **Cute Moonshipping. Also a bit of Cloudshipping and Agentshipping. Ooh, and implied Silvershipping if you catch it.

**Warnings: **AU, excessive fangirlish squeeing, Aura swearing (as usual), and a few pairings some people might not like. Y'all know where the back button is if you don't approve.

---

Summer was well in swing. Earlier today, it had been horrible outside—nasty, muggy, with no hint of a breeze whatsoever. But now that night had fallen, it was a lot better—at the very least, the temperature had gone down to reasonable levels. On a typical day, all this meant was that Lou would be whining to anyone who would listen that fall should just hurry up and _get here _already, so that they wouldn't have to deal with any more of this _stupid _weather.

But tonight, she was beyond caring.

Because tonight was Date Night.

She'd spent at least an hour getting ready. First she'd had to shower off all the day's sweat and dirt, then she'd changed into her nicest, newest clothes—brown cargo capris made of toughened cotton and a light green peasant blouse with a beaded string that drew ruffles along the neckline. She'd also decided to wear her favorite hairclips, after complaining to everyone around her that it was really too bad that she always kept her hair short and so couldn't do anything with it. As for makeup, she hadn't really done anything out of the ordinary—well, there _was _the clear nail polish she'd carefully applied and the pale pink strawberry lip gloss she'd added at the last minute, but _really, _what was wrong with wanting to look nice?

After that, she'd run off through the evening streets, saying hello to neighbors, heading down familiar and well-traveled sidewalks. She got to her destination about five minutes early.

Putting a hand to her chest to steady her fluttering heart, she shyly reached out and hit the doorbell.

In a few heartbeats, it swung open, displaying a familiar face. "Hey!"

Lou brightened immediately. "Hi, Aura!"

Aura grinned down at her. "I bet I know why _you're _here." Without another word to her guest, she turned at the waist and stared into the house. "Oei! Niisan! Get your lazy ass out here already!"

After what sounded like a muffled impact and a growled curse, her brother obeyed.

Lou's heart jumped straight into her throat as Kaze framed the doorway behind Aura. He was wearing a pair of brown jeans and black boots, with layered long-sleeved and short-sleeved tee shirts over it. The sleeves that showed were covered in horizontal stripes of dark and pale jade green, and the shirt was two-toned, its back black and its front dull yellow. The short-sleeved shirt had a mock neck that was split down the front with an undone zipper that reached just about to Kaze's clavicle, leaving the steel circle around his throat exposed. His long hair was tied back, which gave Lou a nice view of the rather sheepish expression he had.

"No more stalling, moron," Aura told Kaze, grabbing his arm and forcing him out the door before he could do more than give a startled sound of protest. To Lou, she flashed her brightest crooked grin. "Here ya go. Enjoy your night with the loser! He needs a good time—I'm sick of watching him mope around the house with that pathetic look on his face. Now go on and have fun, y'hear?"

"What about you?" Lou asked, blinking shyly up at Kaze before averting her gaze and looking back at Aura, as if not daring to believe that this was _really _happening at last.

"Eh. I've got a while before _my _date shows up," Aura said with a nearly flippant wave. "She's got a gig down at the café and has already told me in no uncertain terms that she'll hurt me if I show up there. Apparently noticing me in the crowd makes her too squeaky to sing."

Lou covered a giggle and wrapped her arm through Kaze's as Aura shook her head at them, said "'Bye", and closed the door.

It was Golden Week, meaning that there'd been an endless string of festival activities throughout the city. Aside from the usual stuff that was planned—the booths, the contests, the prizes, the endless throngs of people—there would be a fireworks show in about an hour or so, and Lou knew the perfect vantage point to catch it. She was sure that she and Kaze would make it there with plenty of time to spare.

As Lou navigated through the streets as more and more people began to crowd the sidewalks, Kaze followed along passively. It was a good thing, too; there were a few places where Lou's discreet elbowing wouldn't have gotten them through, but Kaze's height and his impassive and distinctly unimpressed expression parted the throngs like the Red Sea.

It seemed like _everyone _was out here tonight—through the waves of people, Lou thought she saw the Hayakawa twins with Satomi, Kimishima, and Clear, but doubted she'd be able to fight her way through and say hello before they drifted off. As they crossed through the downtown area, Lou also spotted Dolk and Lisa sitting at a booth in one of the restaurants, and stopped long enough to tap on the glass and wave to them before she dragged Kaze on. She didn't want to interrupt their date for _too _long.

Even though a lot of the booths looked like they'd be worth investigating later, Lou resisted the temptation to head over to any of them. There'd always be time to play silly festival games and stock up on mostly-useless prizes after the fireworks. Still, when Lou spotted the ice-cream stand on the corner of the sidewalk, all self-control was instantly forgotten.

She stopped, then looked up at Kaze, making the most pathetic puppy eyes that she could manage as she pointed. "Pleeeease?" she begged, giving him her most irresistible smile.

Kaze blinked down at her, then sighed, digging in his pocket with his free hand. "…Fine…"

Lou squealed and hugged him. "Yay! You're the best, Kaze-sama!" With that, she pulled him across the street to join the line waiting to order their ice cream.

As they settled to a stop, the couple in front of them halted their animated conversation and turned around, identical looks of surprised delight on their faces.

Lou squealed again and let go of Kaze for a moment to give the two of them a hug. "Kiri-nii! Kumo-nii!"

"So you actually did it! I admit, I never thought you'd actually be able to get this guy out of the house," Kiri said, laughing, as he reached out to give Kaze's shoulder a playful shove.

"Niisama, don't be mean," Kumo admonished him with a smile.

Lou just grinned up at them. Kiri and Kumo were friends to their entire circle, and everyone was so used to Kiri's teasing by now that they all took it in stride.

"So when'd you two get here?" Kiri went on, completely undeterred.

"Just a little while ago," Lou replied. "We're gonna go stake out a good spot to see the fireworks! Are you going to make sure to get one, too?"

"That's next on the list," Kiri told her with a nod. Then he snaked an arm around Kumo's waist, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face. "A deserted rooftop sounds nice."

As soon as he'd finished his sentence, Kumo jumped a little, letting out a short yelp as his face went bright pink. Lou giggled into her sleeve; even _she'd _seen that grope coming. She loved how Kiri got silly and flirty in public, as if he didn't care what other people's reactions to his relationship with his little brother might be.

Next to her, Kaze folded his arms and gave Kiri a deadpan stare. "Get a room," he advised flatly.

"Pfft." Kiri grinned at them. "Like I said, that's gonna wait for later. Don't be so uptight about everything, if you keep frowning that much you're gonna get wrinkles."

Kaze pointed behind them. "Then pay attention." The rest of the line in front of them had already disappeared, and the ice cream guy was watching Kiri and Kumo expectantly.

"What do you two want?" the guy asked.

"Mint chocolate chip with the works," Kiri and Kumo chorused, then smiled at each other.

Kaze looked down at Lou expectantly; she smiled and pointed up at the flavor she wanted on the list above the cart. He nodded, and the two of them stepped up as Kiri and Kumo trailed off with their ice cream, waving before they melted back into the crowd.

"One chocolate and one strawberry waffle cone, please," Kaze said, handing over a few yen as the worker scooped their orders.

"Yayyy!" Lou gave Kaze a one-armed hug when he handed over her ice cream. "Thanks, Kaze-sama!"

As soon as they'd left the stand, Lou took charge again, leading Kaze through the back streets until they were into the wide park that flanked the downtown section of their city, walking the paths until they'd reached the edge of the lake. Lou looked around until she found one of the park benches, then happily flopped into it, looking out over the water as she licked at her ice cream.

"We'll be able to see the fireworks really well from here," she explained after she was sure she wouldn't get dripped on.

"…" Kaze sat down next to her silently.

"So what's Aura going to be doing tonight, anyway?"

"…Kronos said she'd pick her up around now… they've got another gig after this, I think," Kaze replied at length (he, too, was trying to avoid being dripped on—it was hard to eat ice cream and concentrate on navigating at the same time).

"Really?" Lou kicked her feet in the air as she watched Kaze. "That's right, she plays the guitar, doesn't she? We should see if we can find them after the fireworks, hearing them would be really cool!"

"…………" Kaze just watched her with a considering expression.

"What is it, Kaze-sama?"

"…why all this?" Kaze asked quietly, looking away. "Someone like you… a good girl has no business with a person like me. So why, then…"

Lou just blinked at him for a moment, then she smiled. "…You silly Kaze-sama."

"…?"

"You really don't get it, even after so long?" Lou asked, reaching up to poke Kaze in the shoulder. "Because you're…" _Because you're different. Because you matter. Because I matter enough to you for you to wonder if you deserve me. Because…_

"A life debt… doesn't involve something like this," Kaze said even more quietly.

"It's not about you saving me," Lou breezed. "That's not where my feelings come from."

"…"

She smiled, licked her dripping ice cream, and leaned into his side, her heart going fluttery at his warmth. "…oh, you'll understand someday."

"…" Kaze just looked down at her.

Lou pointed at his ice cream, covering a giggle. "Hee, watch that, Kaze-sama. You're gonna drip it on your pants if you don't."

"…ah…" Kaze moved his hand just in time for the light trace of melting ice cream over his fingers hit the bench instead of his clothes.

"Hurry up and fix it—the fireworks'll start any minute now," Lou told him, her giggle persisting.

"…" Kaze didn't answer her, but as he turned towards his neglected cone, she saw him smile.

**Owari.**


	32. Femme Fatale, for Reinna

Femme Fatale

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FF:U, as y'all might've guessed by now. This oneshot is for Reinna, for a trade we're doing. Enjoy!

**Rating:** T

**Genre: **Humor. Character-sketch-ish.

**Pairings: **Silvershipping and Heartshipping.

**Warnings: **Aura—she's getting to be a warning in and of herself, seriously—yuri, gunplay… and Windarian siblings causing mayhem. AU. Moar overabuse of festivals, too. Hey, even CLAMP tends to use them as an all-purpose plot device…

---

Aura didn't really see the point of these things.

Sure, she was plenty fine with partying when there was something to celebrate. But this whole festival-every-two-weeks thing was getting to be a real pain in the ass. It made traffic a zoo, and choking the sidewalks with vendors made it hard to get around even on foot.

Why she even went out to investigate them was beyond her.

Other than the fact that Kaze needed a walk every now and then, and she'd been annoyed with his constant moping around in the house. It pissed her off that she had to drag her brother around like a finicky dog, but there you had it. Kaze was just like that. He didn't do things unless you made him do them.

To be fair to Kaze, Aura's bad mood wasn't _just _because of him. Not technically. It wasn't Kaze's fault, for instance, that Aura wasn't able to follow her original plans for the night and visit the festival with someone who, to her, was far preferable company to her stoic brother. But unfortunately for them all, Fabula had work to do. And because sitting at home was a lot more boring than being outside, Aura was sulking through the festival and dragging Kaze along with her when _he _would rather have been at home.

Well, whatever. It was something to do.

Such was Aura's train of thought as she hauled Kaze down the street, only giving the booths angry passing glances as she stalked purposefully off to nowhere. She probably would've kept sulking and stalking and hauling if she hadn't caught sight of a bright yellow chocobo plushy sitting at the top of a prize shelf, its neck adorned with a wide, ruffly purple-and-gold ribbon.

Aura stopped and stared at it consideringly, crossing her arms.

At the same time, Kaze also stopped and stared. Aura glanced at him from the corner of her eye and saw that he was looking at the white bunny plushy next to the chocobo, bedecked with a similarly extravagant pink-and-silver ribbon.

"Well, hello there, miss," said the guy who was apparently running the game. "I see you've some interest in our game! It's only 100 yen per try, why not give it a 'shot'?"

Aura gave him a considering look, then stared at the game setup for a while. It was a mock shooting range in which the object seemed to be to nail all the moving targets. Based on how many you hit and knocked down—only a bull's eye would actually knock the tin cut-outs over—you got to pick a prize.

"Maybe," she answered, and pointed. "How much does it take to win _that?"_

The guy looked at the direction of her finger, then smiled regretfully. "That's one of the top prizes—you can only win one if you hit everything perfectly. I doubt you'd be able to get it on your first try. We'd always be happy to have you stay until you win one, though…"

Aura raised her eyebrow at the guy, then gave him a slow and dangerous smirk. "Wanna bet?" she asked slowly, her voice dripping with no small amount of unholy glee.

The guy blinked at her, taken aback, then shrugged. Before he could speak, however, Kaze of all people interrupted.

"Everything on that shelf… is the same?"

"Uh… yeah, they're all considered top prizes. You wanna give it a try too, sir?"

Kaze flinched visibly at the "sir" (and Aura snickered at him), but he looked down at his sister and shrugged one shoulder.

"Well, why the hell not?" she said flippantly. "It's something to do."

Apparently taken a bit aback, the booth guy blinked at them, then held out a pair of air guns, a shotgun and a pistol. Kaze accepted the shotgun, while Aura went for the pistol, checking its weight and heft and then sighting down her arm, settling her finger against the trigger.

It was no revolver, but it'd do.

"Um—you've got ten cork shots and one and a half minutes to hit all ten targets," the guy said. "I'll reset them once each of you is done."

"Wanna go first?" Aura asked Kaze. He shrugged, then set the shotgun to his shoulder.

"And—_start!" _the booth guy called, getting into it as he started the timer.

Aura watched with a complacent smirk as Kaze shot and reloaded and shot, each bright bang punctuated by the _ping _of cork on tin. In a minute and twenty seconds, he was easily able to demolish every target.

As the booth guy and the onlookers waiting in line to try out the game gaped, Kaze impassively swung the shotgun down from his shoulder and placed it on the counter. Aura was sure she was the only one able to decipher the self-satisfied gleam in his eyes.

"That's my baka-niisan," she said proudly, slapping Kaze on the shoulder with an affectionate but teasing grin _("Baka-niisan…?" _Kaze repeated incredulously). "Nice shooting. Still—you've got a ways to go yet." And to the crowd, she presented her cheekiest smirk. "Watch a _master _handle it now."

It took the guy a few minutes to fix the targets. The space between might have made someone else nervous, but it didn't bother Aura. She had confidence in her skills as a sharpshooter—this was what she loved to do more than anything else, after all. Besides, she was walking out of here with that plushy, one way or the other.

"Alright then, miss, you can start now—"

Almost before the guy had finished his sentence, Aura was shooting. Her mind blanked out completely, and she let her hands alone react to the flashes of color that were the little red dots in the middle of the tin targets.

By the time she was out of shots and the targets were bouncing off the backs of their wire trails, only about thirty seconds had passed. With a sigh, Aura lowered the pistol, staring down the targets with a pleased smile.

The guy stood there gaping at them for a moment, then moved towards the prize rack. "And, uh, you wanted…?"

"The rabbit," Kaze said simply.

"The chocobo," Aura told him, putting the pistol down.

Scratching his head, the booth guy retrieved the plushies. "You wouldn't think that people like you two would be into stuffed animals…"

Aura looked at Kaze, saw that he wasn't going to explain, and shrugged. "It's not us. It's more like, we both have girlfriends who really like cute things, and this way we get to brag about how we won them."

"I… see." The guy didn't look like he did, but he handed over the plushies without a fuss. Aura and Kaze accepted them, then sauntered off the way they'd come.

"…We are _so _good," Aura commented after a short silence.

"…" Kaze smiled, which was his way of saying he concurred.

---

_"Coming," _Fabula yelled at the door, dumping loose papers on her desk with a groan. It was annoying to be interrupted, but since she would probably end up hurting someone if she worked for any longer, surely this was all for the best.

When she reached the door and opened it, she brightened instantly. "Hi, Aur—" and then she saw her _other _guest. "…em, Kaze."

"Present," Aura announced, holding out a ribbon-bedecked stuffed chocobo.

Well, Kaze _was _standing right there and all, but there was no holding back an ingrained natural reaction. So Fabula squealed, grabbed the plushy, and hugged it. "This is so _cute! _For me?! You're the _best, _Aura!"

Aura just grinned at her. "Yes, that's right, I am officially amazing."

Fabula gave her a wry smile. "Thoughtful, yes. Amazing? For _just _a plushy? Maybe if you were talking about something _else, _but…" She reminded herself that Kaze was standing right there and that she shouldn't make suggestive remarks within his hearing, then arched one eyebrow. "So why specifically do you say that?"

Aura's grin widened. "Oh, I was _hoping _you'd ask that."

"This is going to be good, I'm sure."

"Good? Hell, it's _epic. _'Cause anyone who puts any kind of gun in my hand courts instant and painful death."

**Owari.**


	33. Cosplay, for Stormshadow13

Cosplay

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy: Unlimited (…duh…), but Kumo's costume here is of my own design. (And designing a costume like that for a guy is a major pain in the ass, let me tell you…) This oneshot's for Stormshadow13, the 100th reviewer of Kokoro no Hanashi! Thank you so much for all your support!

**Rating: **T

**Genre: **Romance. Humor. Mild citrus. Yummy yum yum…

**Pairings: **Cloudshipping (woohoo, OTP!)

**Warnings: **AU. Yaoi. Incest. Sexual content. Crossdressing. The closed-minded sort would do well to start looking for the back button now, in other words. If you fall under that category and choose to read on, don't come crying to me when you wind up scarred for life.

---

"Are you done yet?"

"A-almost, Niisama…"

Kiri sighed, settled back against the wall, and looked at his wristwatch, trying not to fidget too much. It was taking Kumo _forever _to get dressed.

They were going to be heading to a convention as soon as Kumo was out of the bathroom. This year, all the girls of their group would be cosplaying, and for whatever reason, they'd decided that Kumo, too, would need to dress up. Months ago, they'd ordered their costumes from some prestigious designer, and gotten them a week or so ago. Kumo'd never tried his on before, and so Kiri had never seen it. The girls had all looked mischievous and promised he'd love it when he asked them what the deal was; he'd just shrugged, knowing he could never fathom the depths of the female psyche, and let the issue drop.

And while yeah, he _was _curious, he also didn't want to be late. They'd catch hell from Aura if they weren't within five seconds of the planned rendezvous date.

"Kumo, what is _taking _you so long?" Kiri asked, fidgeting and looking towards the closed door. "Is it really that hard to get into?"

"Yes—well, no, it's just…" Kumo's voice trailed off into a mumble. "This is so _embarrassing…"_

"At least they swore they weren't putting you in cat ears again," Kiri said, shaking his head. "God, that was stupid. Cute, but stupid. You looked absolutely ridiculous in that outfit."

There was another indistinct mumble from behind the door, something that sounded suspiciously like a protest that Kumo's outfit this year was far worse than cat ears. Kiri made a face, rolled his eyes, and promised himself he'd have a little talk with the girls after the con was over. Dammit, couldn't they _tell _that their insistence that Kumo continue cosplaying in feminine outfits was uncomfortable for his brother?

"U-um. I'm, um. I'm coming out now," Kumo said, his voice wavery and nervous.

"Well, good. Maybe now we can—" But then the door clicked and Kumo walked into view and Kiri promptly forgot all about his powers of speech.

_Holy __**fuck.**_

Kumo was pink in the face all the way up to his _ears, _and Kiri couldn't blame him. Wearing something like _that—_

Kiri swallowed hard. And stared. And kept staring while Kumo fidgeted under the intensity of his gaze.

The dress wasn't true black, but rather deep charcoal, and although the fabric looked rather starched and scratchy, it hugged the contours of Kumo's body, lengthening the already lean lines of his waist and shoulders and accentuating the few full curves he had. The skirt ended roughly two inches past Kumo's butt, with a wide ruffle of lace lining the hem. There was another puffy white layer of softer fabric right beneath this, a thinner dress that seemed layered beneath the top one. The shoulders of the dress were puffed out, though from the middle of Kumo's biceps down, they clung closely to his arms, ending in wide white ruffles and silk an inch past his wrists. The tightly-laced bodice was snug against Kumo's flat chest, and it ended in another delicate tracery of lace just below his collarbones.

The apron was also pristine white, made of heavier linen than the dress, and it consisted of a waistpiece and flared, ruffled straps over Kumo's shoulders. It was held in place by a wide white sash that was pulled back into a large bow just above his hips; the ends of the sash hung down a good three inches or so past the end of the skirt. The bottom of the apron ended about an inch above the skirts, and on the other side of the ruffled silk, a delicate red ribbon was threaded in a simple pattern along the hemline. A similar, though wider, red ribbon was pulled around Kumo's throat in lieu of the soft periwinkle choker he usually wore, ending in a bright, floppy bow that hung right at the center of his clavicle.

From his brown leather loafers to three-quarters of the way up his thighs, Kumo wore gauzy white hose; they were held in place by wide lacy garters, threaded through with black ribbon which connected to the thin adjustment belts that traced up his skirt.

Kiri swallowed hard, again. _Oh, sweet God. _It was an automatic reaction, one he couldn't help, but now was the _worst _time and _shit _he was so hard that his jeans were now too tight for him to move.

Kumo fidgeted, clasping his hands behind his back, and turned shyly in a gesture that seemed almost coquettish. "Um—Niisama, how do I… how do I look?"

As he turned, his sinfully short skirts bounced, allowing Kiri just the slightest flash of a glimpse of lacy pink.

Okay. That was it. Bye-bye, self-control. Screw it, it was Aura's fault anyway for deciding to put Kumo in a damn _maid's uniform _like this anyway.

In the space of two heartbeats, Kiri was across the floor with one hand fumbling at the fly of his jeans and the other up Kumo's skirt, sliding up the lacy pink silk to the garter belt over it.

Kumo grabbed the back of Kiri's shirt and moaned, and there went the rest of Kiri's reservations.

Carefully, Kiri worked Kumo's silk panties down without undoing the garter belt, and let them fall. Then he rushed in and they made vicious love hard and fast up against the wall, barely managing to avoid staining Kumo's skirts when he came into Kiri's hands. Spent and exhausted, they slid to the hardwood floors in a tangle of arms and legs, both gasping for breath.

"You look," Kiri managed at last, "absolutely fantastic."

"Mmn." Kumo nuzzled into Kiri's shoulder sleepily. "…can we go meet the others now? If we keep them waiting much longer, they'll kill us…"

"Can't do that. Think I've already died and gone to heaven," Kiri said wryly, grinning. Kumo groaned and slapped listlessly at his shoulder; Kiri just laughed. "Yeah. We can go. But let's get you cleaned up first. And, uh—we should probably make sure we're always near enough to our room so we won't be in public when the irresistible urge to jump you comes back."

Kumo made a muted sound of agreement into Kiri's shoulder, but didn't move.

As for Kiri, all he could do was shake his head.

Well, really. A _maid's uniform._ What the _hell._

…He'd be damned if those girls hadn't planned all this from the start.

**Owari.**


End file.
